


When It Comes To Being Lucky

by sterekcrush



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asshole Jackson, BAMF Stiles, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Blood and Gore, Brief Discussion of Mpreg, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Good Peter Hale, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Stiles Stilinski/Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Post-Season/Series 02, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Burn, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Warning: Kate Argent, seriously this is such a slow burn, so slow, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 157,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterekcrush/pseuds/sterekcrush
Summary: Derek Hale doesn't do love. He's tried twice; the first time it made him a killer, and the second time cost him his whole world.So he doesn't do love, and he definitely doesn't love Stiles. He doesn't care about Stiles' new powers or the fact that Stiles has been talking to Derek's dead mother, or even the fact that for some reason supernatural creatures from all over the country are sending Stiles offers of courtship.But when Stiles claims he's not part of Derek's pack and takes off for parts unknown...well, maybe Derek cares a little after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have such a fondness for 'Stiles is pushed out of the pack' fics. This began as a sort of love letter to those, though it grew a plot and then veered off into unknown territory pretty quickly. I do have a complete outline, roughly 20k written, and an ending to work toward, though, so it will be finished eventually.
> 
> Set in that sweet spot between seasons 2 and 3A when the world still held so much possibility and everything was beautiful. AU for season 2 in that Erica and Boyd don't leave after Gerard tortures them, and Jackson is still around being Jackson. The Alpha Pack will still make an appearance, but in a slightly different capacity than what happened in canon.

Gorgeous cover art by the talented [surfgirl1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfgirl1/pseuds/surfgirl1).

It starts with fairies. 

_Fae_ , Stiles reminds them all every time one of them says ‘fairies’, like the words are interchangeable. But no one’s listening to him, as usual, and lately he’s been wondering why he bothers.

He knows most people would have given up a long time ago, that most people would recognize when they’ve worn out their welcome and move on. But most people aren’t dealing with a pack full of morons who keep trying to get themselves killed, every one of them inclined to rush in with claws and fangs and expect that to solve every problem.

Like the Fae, for example, and Derek’s been dealing with the supernatural his whole life, so he at least should know than you can’t just threaten Fae and expect them to roll over. Stiles knows, but that’s because he’s the one who does all the research, spends hours digging through dusty texts and websites alike, only for all his hard work to be discounted and ignored.

“We’ll go in pairs,” Derek says without bothering to so much as glance at the stack of research Stiles set down on the table in front of him. Instead he’s standing in front of the wall of windows that lines the loft’s main space, ridiculous arms crossed over his chest and making his muscles bulge in a way Stiles is pretty sure he means to be intimidating. “This is a tracking mission only. We just need to find wherever they’ve set up camp, take a look around and see what they’re up to.”

“Why can’t we just kill them?” Erica, whose bloodlust has never really died down, even after being tortured by Gerard and then running home with her tail between her legs.

“Because the Fae have powerful magic, for one thing,” Stiles says, ignoring Derek’s glare. He’s used to it by now, and if it still hurts that Derek treats him like he’s an annoyance instead of an asset, at least it doesn’t scare him anymore. “Attacking them will just piss them off, and we don’t even know why they’re here.”

“If we kill them we don’t need to worry about why they’re here.”

Stiles tries not to roll his eyes, because he knows it’s only going to make things worse, but seriously, how could anyone blame him when he’s dealing with this level of stubbornness? “What part of ‘powerful magic’ are you not understanding? We’re talking about centuries old supernatural creatures, basically immortal beings. You think a few barely trained teenage werewolves are going to even slow them down?”

“So what’s your plan, talk them to death?” Jackson sneers, and Stiles clenches his fists and swallows down the creeping rage threatening to crawl up his throat and scream its way out of him. He opens his mouth to shoot back a sarcastic response and make the whole situation worse, because just once it would be nice if one of them – a single one of these assholes he’s supposed to call ‘friends’ – would have his back, but before he gets the chance Derek’s barking over all of them with his ‘I’m the Alpha, hear me roar’ voice.

“Enough. Nobody’s killing anybody,” he says, with a significant glance at Jackson, which probably means the only person in danger of dying tonight is Stiles. So business as usual, then, he thinks, and swallows a sigh.

“Fine, but I’m not pairing up with the spaz,” Jackson says, voice still belligerent, but he’s not meeting Derek’s glare. “Seriously, why is he even here? It’s not like he can keep up with us.”

Nobody has an answer for that, either, not even Scott. Maybe a year ago Scott would have defended him, insisted that Stiles brought plenty of skills to the table that the rest of them didn’t. But ever since his epic bromance with Isaac began, Scott’s been less ‘bffs forever’ and more of a ‘nod in the hallway and only call when he needs something’ kind of friend.

So Stiles isn’t surprised when Scott doesn’t speak up, despite the fact that Stiles isn’t the only person in the room without supernatural speed. Allison may be impressive with a crossbow and the knives she always seems to be able to produce out of nowhere, but that doesn’t help her run fast enough to keep up with wolves. And don’t even get him started on Lydia and what she thinks is acceptable footwear for stalking dangerous creatures in the forest. Hell, between lacrosse practice and running for his life, Stiles is a lot faster than both Allison and Lydia combined.

But he’s not fucking anyone in the room, so he doesn’t get credit for that either. It’s not fair, and he’s so fucking _tired_ , so instead of arguing or sticking up for himself he just squares his shoulders and backs out of the room to let the rest of them fight it out. And he’s not a quitter, but he can see where this is going even if their so-called leader can’t. Someone’s going to piss off a Fae tonight for no reason whatsoever, and then the entire pack will end up gutted and bleeding out in the preserve. Or worse, they’ll be captured and tortured inside a Fae pocket for all eternity, and none of their families will ever know what happened.

He makes it all the way to the door without anyone noticing, and when he slips out of the loft and heads for the stairs nobody calls him back. Stiles tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he expects it at this point, so it doesn’t hurt. It’s a lie, and the weight burning in the center of his chest proves it, but it’s not like he can do anything to change it. So he just climbs into his Jeep and starts the engine, then he heads toward the preserve and hopes he can find the Fae before any of them figure out what he’s up to.

* * *

Derek leans against the table at the far end of the loft’s main room and watches his pack filing in through the metal door, his shoulders growing tenser with every new voice added to the endless stream of bickering between them. And the thing is, he gets it: they’re teenagers. Along with the hormones comes the endless drama, he knew that and he bit them anyway, so it’s his own fault, really.

It’s times like these he wonders how much it would matter if he just bailed on all of it and took off for parts unknown. Not forever, not when it seems like there’s always another supernatural disaster just lurking around the corner, but just...for a while. Like a vacation. He’s pretty sure he remembers his parents going on vacation every so often, the Alpha pair packing up their resort wear and sunglasses and kissing their kids on the head before they headed out for a romantic trip. To ‘reconnect’, they’d always said, when Derek and his sisters complained that they weren’t invited, even though their parents took them on plenty of family vacations, too.

But Derek’s parents had a stable pack and a stable territory, his mother had adult betas she trusted and a Second she knew would defend their territory and her children with his life, if it came down to that. Derek doesn’t have any of those things, not even a reliable Second, because Peter would have laid down his life in service of the great Talia Hale, but Derek has a feeling that the moment his own back was turned, his uncle would gleefully stab him right in it without a second thought.

So he’s stuck here, for better or worse, with a patched together pack of kids who mostly don’t even like each other, let alone think of each other as family. This isn’t what a pack is supposed to be like, Derek learned enough from his mother to know that, but he has no idea how to fix it.

He’s sinking deeper into self-pity when Stiles shows up, a stack of research tucked under one arm. Derek eyes him as he crosses the room, expression neutral and his stride confident. When he reaches the table he drops the stack of papers in front of Derek, one eyebrow raised as though he’s challenging Derek to say anything about it.

“This is all the relevant information I found on the Fae. Chances are they’re just passing through, there’s really no need…”

“Just leave it,” Derek barks, harsher than he intended, because it’s bad enough his pack’s such a mess without Stiles rubbing in Derek’s face exactly how much he doesn’t know. And the thing is that he knows Stiles would help him figure it out, if he just asked. Hell, Stiles _already_ helps him figure things out without needing to be asked, and it’s not his fault the help makes Derek feel like a failure.

Still, he can’t seem to help the way his hackles rise when Stiles’ jaw clenches, so he turns his back in clear dismissal before Stiles can start arguing with him about whatever he thinks he knows. After all, he’s just human, and the ability to Google a bunch of legends about the Fae that probably aren’t even right doesn’t prove anything.

He waits until he hears Stiles huff a frustrated breath and move away, back toward the stairs that lead up to the door. For a second Derek thinks he’s actually going to leave, but Stiles stops and leans against the wall, as far away from the rest of the pack as he can get without leaving the room. Derek frowns at that, but it’s not like it matters where Stiles chooses to stand, and what little furniture Derek owns is already being dominated by a sprawl of teenage limbs anyway. They haven’t left any room for Stiles, and if Derek didn’t know better he might think the way Isaac and Erica are both slouching over too much of the couch is their way of making sure Stiles is excluded from the group.

It’s another in a long line of troubling thoughts when it comes to his pack and their instincts, or lack thereof, but he doesn’t have time to deal with it now. Instead he clears his throat and plants his feet in what he knows is a dominant stance, then he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at his betas. 

“I caught the scent of the Fae again last night,” he says, clenching his teeth when he hears Isaac mutter ‘fairies’ under his breath and Scott fail to stifle a laugh next to him. “They’ve been in the preserve a week now without making any kind of move. We need to find out what they’re up to before the situation gets out of hand.”

“Could they just be hanging out?” Scott asks, all wide-eyed innocence that makes Derek wonder all over again what Peter was thinking when he bit Scott instead of Stiles that night in the woods. “I mean, fairies live in the woods, right?”

“Fae,” Stiles corrects from behind them, but no one spares him so much as a glance.

“That’s the point of tracking them,” Derek answers, swallowing a sigh. “We’ll go in pairs. This is a tracking mission _only_. We just need to find wherever they’ve set up camp, take a look around and see what they’re up to.”

“Why can’t we just kill them?” Erica asks, which is a fair enough question, in Derek’s opinion. 

They are in his territory, after all, and they haven’t bothered to announce their presence or ask for safe passage. That’s always been standard procedure, as far as Derek remembers from being a kid and watching his mom receive other supernatural groups who wandered into their territory for one reason or another. Then again, he doesn’t remember her ever dealing with the Fae, so he has no idea what standard procedure is for them. The answer might be somewhere in Stiles’ stack of research, but just the thought of wading through all that makes him tired.

“Because the Fae have powerful magic, for one thing,” Stiles pipes up before Derek can answer. It’s a breach of pack etiquette, interrupting the Alpha, but Stiles has never been one for any kind of etiquette. “Attacking them will just piss them off, and we don’t even know why they’re here.”

“If we kill them we don’t need to worry about why they’re here,” Erica says, her eyes flashing with mischief or bloodlust, he can never tell with her.

“What part of ‘powerful magic’ are you not understanding?” Stiles snaps, like maybe he’s just as over it as Derek is. Maybe he’s thinking about taking an extended vacation too; the only difference between them is that if Stiles wants to leave all this supernatural bullshit behind, he can. “We’re talking about centuries old supernatural creatures, basically immortal beings. You think a few barely trained teenage werewolves are going to even slow them down?”

“So what’s your plan, talk them to death?” Jackson says, and when Stiles’ hands curl into fists Derek knows he needs to put an end to the conversation before it gets out of hand.

“Enough. Nobody’s killing anybody,” he says, and when he fixes his gaze on Jackson his head drops and he bares his neck just the slightest fraction of an inch.

“Fine, but I’m not pairing up with the spaz. Seriously, why is he even here? It’s not like he can keep up with us.”

Derek’s gaze lifts heavenward, eyes closed and he wonders for a few seconds if his dead family is looking down on him and laughing at what a mess he’s made of every aspect of his life. Certainly Laura is, that he has no doubt about. If she was here now to watch him trying to corral a bunch of rude, whiny teenagers who refuse to work together, the most useful of whom isn’t even a wolf, she’d probably laugh so hard she’d die all over again from lack of oxygen.

The thought makes Derek’s jaw clench, mainly because he’d give literally anything to hear his sister laugh just one more time. But there are actually Fae to deal with, so he counts to ten and then looks back at his pack. 

“Stiles is with…” he starts to say, the ‘me’ getting caught in his throat because he’s always got an irrational need to keep Stiles close, to keep him protected from himself and everything that comes along with running with wolves. Only Stiles isn’t standing where he was a few moments ago, and when Derek hears the Jeep’s engine sputter to life his eyes flash red and he turns back to his pack to watch them all look toward the door.

“Huh, who knew he could actually take a hint,” Jackson says, and Derek contemplates, not for the first time, ripping out his throat the way he wishes so often that he’d done when they first met.

“Unlike you,” Erica snaps, the only one to come to Stiles’ defense these days, and even she mostly doesn’t bother. “Since you’re still here and all.”

Jackson bares his fangs when Erica’s eyes flash, and Derek lets out a growl to let them know he’s not in the fucking mood. Instead he splits them all into pairs, making sure to break up the couples he knows will get distracted and keeping Erica and Jackson far away from each other. Stiles going home evens things up, anyway, and it’s true that they don’t really need him for this. So Derek pushes the memory of Stiles’ clenched jaw and the faint scent of hurt out of his mind and leads his pack out of the loft and towards the preserve.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles should go home. That’s what he tells himself all the way to the preserve, and again when he parks in the lot closest to the south entrance and heads into the woods with only a flashlight and his wits to protect him.

He should go home, but there’s something propelling him forward, a warmth in his chest that’s less angry and oppressive now and more anticipatory, as though something important is about to happen. He doesn’t know what it means, but he’s been feeling that warmth ever since that night in the Argents’ basement, when Gerard decided to deliver a message via Stiles’ face.

Only he didn’t stop with Stiles’ face. He didn’t stop when Erica and Boyd shouted for him, when they swore he didn’t know anything and did their best to distract the surprisingly strong old man from making sure Stiles understood exactly what happened to humans who willingly sided with wolves.

He’s not entirely sure what happened that night to bring on this strange warmth just behind his heart, so strong sometimes that he finds himself looking down in the middle of class and expecting to find his chest glowing like he’s Iron Man or something. But Stiles has never been that lucky, so instead of sudden superpowers to go along with his smart mouth, he’s just got a glowy feeling that leads him into the woods in the middle of the night.

Chances are good that the pack will catch up with him before he finds the Fae, but he stumbles along through the darkness anyway, feet moving forward through the underbrush as though he’s being compelled. Maybe he is. Maybe this is that first move Derek’s been expecting, and the Fae are luring the pack’s weakest link out in the night to his doom. If that’s the case then the joke’s on them, Stiles thinks with a sardonic laugh, because the chances of anyone in the pack actually caring if Stiles is spirited away by the Fae are pretty damn slim.

There’s still no sign of the pack when he finds himself in a clearing lit by the waning moon, stopping just short of the fairy ring in the center of the dying grass. Despite the moon and the clouds obscuring half the sky, the clearing is lit by what Stiles can only describe as an unearthly glow. Everything is sort of silver and shimmering, which is how Stiles knows that he’s in the right place.

The trouble is that he’s reached the end of his research. He has no idea how to call to the Fae, and even if he did he doesn’t know if they’d take it as an insult to be summoned by a human. There are so many different types of Fae, each with their own traditions and biases. All he really knows is that a fairy ring signifies actual fairy-type Fae, as opposed to sylphs or dryads or even elves, which means he’s most likely dealing with one of the Courts. If it was still spring, or the end of the year, he’d be sure of the Court he’s about to meet. But it’s the beginning of the school year, which means it could be the Summer Court passing through on their way back to the Fae realm, or it could be the Autumn Court arriving to get their party started.

If it’s the Summer Court he’s glad he ditched the wolves, because there’s no doubt in his mind one of them will manage to insult the Seelie. But the Autumn Court would probably appreciate the company of werewolves a lot more than one useless human, especially when he hasn’t even brought them any tribute.

Stiles is too busy wondering what exactly one presents to the Unseelie as a tribute to notice the glow in the clearing getting a little brighter, but a moment later there’s a figure standing in the center of the fairy ring. It’s a woman, taller than Stiles and dressed in long robes of moss green and the deep brown of forest soil. Her hair is long and dark, hanging over her shoulders and crowned with a circlet of leaves in orange and red and yellow.

So it’s the Autumn Court, then, Stiles thinks, swallowing hard and wishing suddenly that he’d just swallowed down Jackson’s latest insults and waited for the others. At least that way there would be werewolves to hide behind, and if a fight broke out he might have been able to escape while the Fae was busy with the more obvious threat.

“Well met, Spirit Walker,” the Fae says, her smile somehow making her look even more dangerous.

For a second Stiles frowns, trying to work out what she means by ‘Spirit Walker’. He’s tempted to look over his shoulder to make sure there’s no wolf lurking back there, but that means taking his eyes off the Fae, and for some reason that seems like a bad idea.

“Hi,” Stiles says, cheeks burning even as the word leaves his mouth. “Uh...I come on behalf of the Hale Pack.”

The Fae inclines her head as though it’s perfectly reasonable for a human to represent a werewolf pack, and her smile turns a little more amused. “A Spirit Walker aligned with wolves is a rarity indeed. The Hale Pack must be quite honored.”

“I...uh...I doubt any of them would know what you mean by ‘Spirit Walker’,” he says, blushing even harder, because he’s pretty sure she’s referring to him, and he has no clue what it means either. “It’s just Peter and Derek now of the actual Hales, so…”

“Of course.” The Fae bows her head as though she’s taking a moment of silence, maybe, and Stiles isn’t inclined to interrupt. “We will honor our accord with the previous Hale Alpha.”

“Yeah, we don’t really know anything about the accord,” Stiles admits, because she seems nice enough, but it’s not like he can bluff his way through negotiating with a Fae and expect to come out of it alive. “What do you expect from us?”

“Safe passage through your territory, Spirit Walker, nothing more.” The Fae smiles again, just looking at Stiles for a few long moments, and he has a creeping feeling that she’s looking _into_ him. “But I sense your thirst for knowledge. Perhaps it is time we revisited the terms of our treaty.”

“Oh, see, the thing is, Derek’s the Alpha,” Stiles says, gesturing over his shoulder as though Derek might pop up and make himself known. It honestly wouldn’t be the first time, and now that he thinks about it, it’s taking the wolves an awfully long time to catch up with him. Stiles wonders for the first time if he’s in some kind of Fae pocket, if he’s going to get home after a half hour conversation and find everyone he ever loved long dead.

“You speak for the land, do you not?” she asks, like a challenge, and Stiles nods without really knowing why. 

“We seek safe passage. This has been granted since the time that wolves claimed this land. In exchange I offer you the knowledge of my people. You will come to the Autumn Court, as my guest, to learn of the magic inside you. No ‘fairy tricks’, as you mortals refer to them,” she adds with a smile.

“Magic?” Stiles says, and he doesn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but he can’t help thinking that maybe she’s mistaking him for someone else. Someone who’s done more than spread a little mountain ash around. But she’s Fae, a being made of magic, basically, so if anyone would know if he has the potential, it’s her.

“You are a Spirit Walker, Mieczyslaw Stilinski, son of John and Claudia. You have a responsibility to this land and a role to play in coming events. As a gesture of continuing friendship with the Hale Pack and the land itself, I offer you the knowledge required to fulfill your role.”

Stiles does look around then, mostly because he’s sort of afraid this is all going to turn out to be a joke. But they’re alone in the clearing, and even if the pack was waiting in the trees to laugh at him, none of them know his real name. Even Scott’s only heard it once, and there’s no way in hell he’d be able to pronounce it well enough to teach some Fae how to say it in the name of a practical joke.

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he says, hoping he’s not pushing his luck too far. He still hasn’t accepted her offer, but the truth is that he’s having a hard time thinking of a reason not to. If he can do magic he wants to know, and the only other person around that he can ask is Deaton, who’s been less than helpful ever since Scott agreed to start working with Derek.

The Fae smiles as her aura begins to glow a soft gold. “Some call me Uonaidh, the last High Queen of the Daoine Sídhe. To others I am known as Queen of Elphame. To some I am simply Morgana. But to most I am known as Morgan le Fay, the Queen of the Autumn Court.”

Morgan le Fay. _Morgan le Fay_ wants to teach Stiles about magic. An actual Arthurian legend just invited Stiles to spend time with the Autumn Court, and there isn’t even anyone here to witness it.

As though thinking it had summoned them, Stiles hears the trees rustling behind him and a moment later the pack bursts through, Derek in front and all of them poised for battle. Stiles rolls his eyes and turns back to Morgan freaking _le Fay_ to smile in what he hopes is a confident way, in spite of the way his heart is trying to beat out of his chest.

“The Hale Pack, your Highness.”

* * *

The pack starts out in pairs, but as soon as Boyd and Allison spot Stiles’ Jeep parked in the south lot, they call Derek and he howls to bring them all together at the bottom of the preserve. They follow Stiles’ scent through the woods, but after a while Derek realizes that they’re mostly going around in circles. And Stiles is human, so it’s not as though he can stay this far ahead of them on his own, but somehow his scent keeps...moving. As though something is keeping them from tracking him, and the thought of Stiles out here in the dark, at the mercy of some unknown Fae, makes Derek’s stomach fill with lead.

He stopped worrying about what the Fae are up to as soon as he realized that Stiles hadn’t gone home the way they’d all assumed. Looking back it was probably a stupid assumption, because Stiles is a lot of things, but most of all he’s stubborn. If he thinks he knows how to deal with the Fae he’s not going to let something little like the word of his Alpha keep him out of it, even if it means putting himself smack in the line of fire.

So now instead of finding out what the Fae are up to they’re on a rescue mission, and as soon as Derek gets his hands on Stiles he’s going to kill him and put them all out of their misery.

They’ve been wandering for nearly an hour when they finally pick up a strong enough scent trail to be sure it’s actually Stiles and not just the Fae messing with them. It leads to a clearing Derek remembers going to once or twice as a kid, and when he spots Stiles standing just outside a fairy ring, it’s all Derek can do not to rush forward and haul him to safety.

“The Hale Pack, your Highness,” Derek hears him say, glancing over his shoulder at them like they’re interrupting, and yeah, Derek’s definitely going to strangle him.

“Alpha Hale,” the Fae in the center of the fairy ring says, turning in his direction. “It is a comfort to find a Hale in this territory once again. Your Spirit Walker and I have reached an accord.”

She’s barely said anything and Derek has a dozen questions, but instead of asking any of them he turns his attention toward Stiles. “ _Stiles._ What did you do?”

“I exercised diplomacy, Derek. You should try it sometime,” Stiles says with a roll of his eyes, then he glances past Derek to Scott. “Dude, you’re going to have to cover for me with my dad.”

“Cover for what?” Derek growls through gritted teeth, his claws itching to come out and rip the Fae who’s smirking at them to shreds. Except that the one thing Derek knows for sure that Stiles got right is that he’s no match for a Fae, so he takes a deep breath and focuses his energy on not losing control.

“The Hales have had an accord with the Autumn Court for centuries,” Stiles says, sighing like he’s over the whole concept of explaining. “All they ask is safe passage through the territory at the end of every summer, just like I said. In exchange the Queen has offered to teach me how to use my magic.”

There’s a scoff from behind him, and Derek doesn’t have to look to know it was Jackson. His lip curls up in a snarl, but before he can turn and tell his betas to hold their tongues, he sees the Fae Queen narrowing her eyes in Jackson’s direction.

“For a Spirit Walker to align with a werewolf pack is an extraordinary thing,” the Queen says, her voice like steel and sending a shiver straight down Derek’s spine. “It is not something to be mocked. I will respect the accord I made with you, Spirit Walker, but I must urge you to consider your alliances carefully in future.”

Derek has no clue what a Spirit Walker is, or why it’s so extraordinary for one to associate with wolves. He doesn’t know anything about Stiles being magical either; Deaton’s never said anything about Stiles having potential, and it seems like a Druid would know. But none of that matters right now, because Derek’s pretty sure this Queen, whoever she is, just told Stiles he should think about quitting the pack.

“You’re not going anywhere, Stiles,” Derek says. “You and your ‘magic’ are staying right here. If you want we’ll go see Deaton, but…”

“Druids know nothing of the magic of a Spirit Walker,” the Queen interrupts with a dismissive wave. “Your Druid recognized young M…”

Stiles makes a spluttering noise, then instantly turns a brighter shade of red than Derek’s ever seen, staring wide-eyed at the Fae as though he’s expecting some sort of punishment. But all she does is laugh, a soft, musical sound that reminds Derek of the wind through crisp autumn leaves. 

“As you wish, Spirit Walker. This Druid recognized your Spark, no? But he did nothing to help ignite it, and he can do nothing now to keep it burning. Come to the Fae realm. It will cost only a week or so of your time, I can take no less.”

Stiles nods as though any of that makes sense, but when Derek opens his mouth to tell him to forget it, Stiles scowls at him and strides across the clearing to grab his arm. “Excuse us a moment, Your Highness,” he calls over his shoulder, and Derek’s so surprised that he lets Stiles drag him all the way to the tree line before he shakes out of Stiles’ grip.

“Derek,” Stiles hisses, glancing back toward the group gathered in the center of the clearing, “do you have any idea who we’re dealing with right now? That is Morgan le Fay. _Morgan le Fay_ , Derek.”

And Derek’s used reading as an escape since his world burned down around him, so he knows exactly why Stiles is so worked up. Still, Stiles is _his_ , however uncomfortable it makes him to think of Stiles that way. It doesn’t matter whether or not they’re talking about a legendary mythological creature; the fact remains that Stiles is part of his pack, and there’s no way Derek’s letting him wander off to the Fae realm to possibly disappear forever.

“So she says,” Derek scoffs, arms crossed over his chest to keep himself from shaking Stiles until he comes to his senses. “You have no proof.”

“She had an accord with your mother, asshole. You’re going to declare war on the Unseelie Court just to prove you’re the biggest Big Bad out there?”

Derek does his best not to flinch at the casual mention of his mother, but he’s not sure how well he succeeds. “No, Stiles. I’m just wondering why Morgan le Fay herself would show up in the middle of the Beacon Hills Preserve to offer magic lessons to you.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he knows he said the wrong thing. It came out wrong, anyway, and by the sudden, curdled scent of hurt followed by the acrid scent of anger, Derek can tell exactly how Stiles took his words. He opens his mouth to take them back, but Stiles is already turning away, fists clenched by his sides exactly the way he’d done earlier when Jackson questioned his place in the pack.

“Scott, I need you to take my phone and send a text to my dad,” Stiles says, tossing Scott his phone as he strides back toward the pack. “You’re going to have to pretend to be me, dude. Tell him I just need a few days to get my head together and I’m sorry I didn’t tell him before I left. He’s barely speaking to me, so he’ll believe it. Before you send it hide my Jeep somewhere he won’t find it. Don’t just leave it at the loft or Derek’s old house, he’ll have patrols out looking everywhere. You can pull it into the old train station, maybe. The point is to make it look like I left town.”

Scott and the rest of the pack are looking at him like he’s crazy, but if Stiles notices he doesn’t show it. For Derek’s part, he’s mostly alarmed at the fact that Stiles already has a plan in place to disappear and hide his tracks at basically a moment’s notice.

“Dude, what about school?”

“Just get the homework assignments for me,” Stiles answers. “My grades are good enough to miss a few days. And I’ll be grounded for the rest of the year when I get home, so I’ll have plenty of time to make up what I miss.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, his voice coming out as more of a growl than he intended.

“This isn’t open for a vote, Derek. We have an accord and I’m honoring it.” Stiles pauses and looks around at the pack, though if he’s looking for anything in particular he doesn’t seem to find it, because his mouth twists into something bitter as he turns his back on them. “I’ll only be gone a week. It’s not like any of you will miss me anyway.”

Before a single one of them even thinks to deny it he’s stepping into the fairy ring, then the whole clearing lights up in a silver glow so bright they have to squint against it. When the light dies down enough to see again, the circle is empty and both the queen and Stiles are gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Later, when someone asks, Stiles won’t be able to say how it felt, moving from his reality to the Fae realm. It was like he just...ceased to exist for a moment, and then he blinked and _became_ again somewhere else. 

He can tell they’re still in the preserve, but it doesn’t look like any part of the preserve he’s ever visited before. The trees are darker and closer together, and everything has a faint glow to it that Stiles assumes is the result of fairy dust. There are tall figures melting out of the darkness between the trees, each of them beautiful in an unearthly way, and he knows without asking that he’s seeing the entirety of the Autumn Court.

“Welcome, Spirit Walker Mieczyslaw Stilinski, to the Autumn Court,” the Queen says, leaning close to whisper in his ear. He feels something warm surge through him and knows without understanding how that it’s his own magic reacting to the magic of the Fae.

“Thanks. This is seriously the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but I still don’t know what you mean by ‘Spirit Walker’,” Stiles says, hoping he’s not about to insult Morgan le Fay, or worse, disappoint her.

“All in due time,” she answers with a smile so warm it looks out of place on the Queen of the Autumn Court. “For now, you must feast with us and make merry.”

Stiles may be relatively new to all this supernatural stuff, but one rule he’s pretty sure everyone agrees on is that you should never eat anything offered to you by the Fae. Still, if he’s going to be here for a week’s worth of mortal time, surely he’s going to have to at least drink something.

As though she can read his mind the Queen smiles again, more mischievous this time. “I gave my word that there would be no tricks, Spirit Walker. You may commune with the Fae in any way you choose and be returned safely to your realm at the appointed time.”

Stiles already knows what Derek would say about him trusting the word of a Fae, but Derek’s not here. Derek didn’t seem all that convinced that Stiles has any magic, either, so as far as he’s concerned Derek can go fuck himself.

Still, it would have been nice if Derek managed to have some faith in him for once. It would be nice to be recognized by _anyone_ in the pack as something more than the human sidekick, but somehow Derek’s rejection always hurts the most. More than Scott’s, even, because Scott never wanted anything to do with this world, but Derek’s been part of it his whole life and he’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want Stiles involved.

He remembers what the Queen said about choosing his company more carefully and wonders if she has a point. The pack doesn’t want him, so why is he still making the effort to convince them otherwise? Maybe he can figure that out while he’s learning what he can do with his magic. Or maybe he’ll just find the strength to finally move on with his life.

“Come, the music is beginning and soon there will be a dance,” Morgana says, taking his arm and pulling him further into the bodies milling around the forest. “No magic to trap you, just dancing and celebration,” she promises, and Stiles pushes his thoughts of the pack to the back of his mind and lets her pull him into the crowd.

Immediately there are hands on him, gentle touches that send warmth and a sense of comfort through him that he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be feeling in a crowd of supernatural beings. He lets the bodies ease him into the dance all the same, unselfconscious for perhaps the first time in his life as he closes his eyes and just _feels_.

He moves from dancer to dancer, each more beautiful than the last, all of them smiling and welcoming him to the Court with voices like the rustle of autumn leaves. It feels more like coming home than he’s had in a long, long time, and he knows it’s a dangerous thought to have, but it’s easy to see how mortals lose themselves to the Fae realm and stay forever.

“Well met, Spirit Walker,” a voice murmurs near his ear, deep and masculine and Stiles turns to find a pair of deep green eyes smiling back at him. “You have been dancing for some time. Perhaps a drink? Or something to eat, to keep up your energy and your spirits.”

Stiles nods stupidly and lets himself be led away, and almost before he knows what’s happening he’s being settled on soft cushions scattered around the forest floor. He’s surrounded by Fae on all sides, all of them wearing welcoming smiles as he takes the goblet he’s offered and swallows a mouthful of sweet, rich wine.

The Fae who pulled him away from the dance settles down next to him, one hand on his knee and the other holding a plate laden with food Stiles doesn’t recognize. He feels a little drunk, even though he’s only had one sip of wine, but he doesn’t mind so much when the Fae smiles at him again.

“I am known as Cailean,” he says.

“Uh…Stiles. I go by Stiles,” Stiles answers, blushing bright red, but the crowd around him just smiles indulgently. 

“A wise choice, Spirit Walker, for there is power in names, and one such as yourself who walks among mortals must guard that power.”

“Listen, I’m still pretty new to this whole magic thing.” _Understatement_ , Stiles thinks, blushing a little brighter. “How is it you all know who I am?”

“The Fae of Queen Morgana’s Court have watched your Spark since it was bestowed upon your birth in the mortal realm,” Cailean says, like it should be obvious. “There are many here who would gladly take you for consort, regardless of the name you call yourself.”

So maybe he isn’t attractive to gay guys, but apparently he’s some kind of Fae bait? A laugh attempts to bubble its way out of Stiles’ throat, but he covers it with a cough and drinks more of the wine that’s pressed into his hand. 

“That’s…um…that’s super flattering, actually, but I’m still in high school.”

Cailean and the rest of the Fae just smile at him as though he’s charming instead of a gigantic dork. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Stiles wasn’t lying about being flattered, so he just smiles back and takes the food they press on him. And if he wonders what the pack would say if they could see him right now, well, no one needs to know about that.

* * *

“What the fuck just happened?” Erica asks when they find themselves staring at an empty clearing.

“Why does he think we won’t miss him?” Scott this time, frowning in genuine confusion at the spot where Stiles had been standing a few seconds ago.

“Because we won’t,” Jackson answers, rolling his eyes when both Scott and Erica growl and Lydia smacks him in the chest. “Come on, when’s the last time any of you hung out with him? Pack meetings and school don’t count,” he adds when Scott opens his mouth to argue.

The whole pack turns to look at Scott, watching as he racks his brain trying to come up with the last time he’d hung out with his alleged best friend. It’s strange to think of the two of them not joined at the hip anymore, but the truth is that Derek doesn’t spend time with any of them outside of pack meetings and supernatural emergencies, so if they aren’t hanging out anymore he wouldn’t know.

The rest of them spend time together, Derek knows, if only because Erica talks about it loudly every time he sees her. She seems happy to have friends for the first time, so he doesn’t begrudge her, but he knows she usually spends her time with Isaac and Boyd. Scott splits his time between Allison and Isaac, as far as Derek can tell, and Lydia and Jackson are off in their own orbit, which leaves Stiles...alone. As alone as Derek, only he has a feeling in Stiles’ case it isn’t by choice.

The thought of Stiles all alone, with no one to listen to his crazy theories and research tangents, makes Derek’s skin feel too tight all of a sudden. He wants to shift and run, to get away from the crawling feeling that he’s failing a member of his pack. But thinking of Stiles as just pack never feels right, and he’s long since learned not to let himself wander down that train of thought for long.

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek says, cutting off Scott’s protest with a look, because Scott’s guilt at being a shitty friend is his own problem. “What matters is whatever’s going on with Stiles.”

“Why?” Jackson whines, rolling his eyes when Scott snarls at him. “I’m serious. He’s completely useless and he’s barely pack. If he doesn’t come back that fairy’s doing us a favor.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath before he forces himself to look at his pack again. He’s so _bad_ at this. Now he understands why Laura never tried to recruit any new pack members while they were in New York; it’s just not worth the trouble.

“He’s coming back,” Derek growls, because he’s not willing to consider the alternative. “And before he does, I want to know what the hell a Spirit Walker is.”

They end up at Deaton’s, because Stiles isn’t there to do the research and Deaton’s the only other one who knows anything about magic. Unless they count Peter, and Derek tries not to count Peter if he can help it.

“Alpha Hale,” Deaton says, managing to make it sound like an insult the way he always does. “How can I help you?”

“There are Fae in the preserve.”

Deaton doesn’t look surprised, but then again, Derek can’t say he’s ever seen Deaton look anything but utterly unflappable. It’s infuriating, but he knows from experience that losing his temper isn’t going to get him anywhere. “Ah, yes, I suppose it is that time of year.”

At Derek’s impatient growl Deaton raises an eyebrow, which is as close to an eye roll as he ever gets, but Derek gets the message anyway. 

“The Fae have had an accord with the Hale Pack throughout recorded history. It was in place long before your mother became Alpha, though Talia did seem to have a particularly cordial relationship with the Autumn Court. They made a habit of stopping to say hello once a decade or so.”

“They took Stiles,” Scott says, and this time both Deaton’s eyebrows go up. “Some fairy with like a leaf crown showed up and said Stiles was a Spirit Walker and then they both disappeared.”

“He went voluntarily,” Derek interrupts before Deaton can say anything. “Apparently he stumbled across Morgan le Fay and renegotiated the accord. She offered to teach him in exchange for safe passage, and he agreed.”

“That was Morgan le Fay?” Lydia asks, her mouth dropped open in an uncharacteristic show of surprise. “And she took _Stiles_?”

“She said Stiles has magic and that you knew about it,” Derek says, before the conversation devolves into another diatribe on why the rest of his pack seems to think Stiles is useless.

“I sensed his Spark, yes, but it hadn’t been activated yet. You’re sure Morgan le Fay called Stiles a Spirit Walker?”

“She said it more than once,” Derek confirms, jaw clenching with impatience as Deaton continues to avoid offering any useful information. “She also said you hadn’t helped Stiles to ignite his Spark.”

Deaton frowns at that and turns away to reach for a book on the shelf behind him. “To be fair, I had other things to focus on at the time.”

“Yeah, like helping Scott stab Derek in the back instead of teaching Stiles how to protect himself,” Erica says, eyes flashing, and Derek has to growl her back into submission. Scott looks like he wants to protest, but it’s not as though she’s wrong, so Derek just stares him down until his shoulders slump in defeat.

“That doesn’t explain what’s so special about Stiles that Morgan le Fay herself would offer to teach him,” Lydia says, and now Derek recognizes the jealousy behind her words. “The Autumn Court is closely associated with death, right? As a banshee I _am_ Fae, shouldn’t she have been more interested in me?”

Deaton flips the book in his hands open to a certain page and pushes it across the table toward them. “I’m afraid it’s not quite as simple as that, Miss Martin. Banshees are what the supernatural world refers to as Lesser Fae, which means you are related, but not often considered worthy of notice by the Courts. Your nature is most closely aligned with the Autumn Court, it’s true, but a Spirit Walker is not only associated with death, but rare enough to catch the attention of even the highest members of the Court.”

“What does that mean?” Derek demands. “And what do you mean, Stiles is associated with death?”

Deaton looks troubled for a moment, but he smooths out his expression and taps a passage in the book. “A Spirit Walker is an activated Spark. Some cultures refer to them as hedge witches.”

“I thought hedge witches were basically Wiccans with a talent for mixing herbs,” Lydia says, scorn creeping into her voice, but when Deaton shakes his head she purses her lips.

“That misconception has spread in recent times, as magic and witchcraft have gone underground, and encouraged by those in the know to be seen as mere make-believe. Many think of the term ‘hedge’ and assume it refers to a witch with little skill beyond the manipulation of botany, but originally it referred to a hedge one would find dividing someone’s property from a lane or thoroughfare of some kind. A boundary, if you will. Hedge witches, or Spirit Walkers, walk the boundary between this world and the next. They are quite magically gifted, but among the rarest of Sparks simply because in order for his Spark to ignite into a Spirit Walker, Stiles would have had to be touched by Death itself.”

“Do you mean like someone he loves dying?” Scott asks, and Derek’s glad, because he doesn’t want to be the one asking all the stupid questions. “Because his mom died like eight years ago. That seems like a long time for his powers or whatever to kick in.”

Deaton makes an apologetic face that Derek knows means he’s not going to like whatever he says next. “No, Scott, I’m afraid I mean that Stiles himself had to have died. For a Spark to ignite into a Spirit Walker, the heart of the host must stop, at least for a few seconds. It is when the heart is restarted, or resurrected, if you will, that the Spark is ignited.”

“What? No way! Stiles hasn’t _died_. If he did I’d know,” Scott argues, looking around at the rest of the pack for back-up. Derek is inclined to agree with him, because he’s never known Stiles to hold his tongue about anything, let alone something as big as this, but when he sees Erica and Boyd exchange a look his stomach drops for the second time that night.

“What do you two know?” he demands, letting enough of his Alpha voice bleed into the question to make sure they answer honestly.

“We promised not to say anything,” Erica says, sparing another guilty glance in Boyd’s direction before she meets Derek’s eyes. “It was the night Allison shot us and strung us up in the Argents’ basement.”

He sees Allison flinch at the words, but Derek doesn’t have any sympathy to spare for her. Half the people in the room have lost family members in one way or another, and it didn’t turn any of them into killers. 

“We told you Gerard tortured us for information about the pack,” Boyd adds, his deep voice quiet and steady as he squeezes the arm he’s settled around Erica’s shoulders. “I guess when we wouldn’t tell him anything he decided to try an easier target.”

“Couldn’t tell him anything,” Erica corrects, her jaw clenching in anger at the memory. “He said the pack bond stopped us from betraying our Alpha, even if we wanted to. But Stiles…”

“Stilinski wasn’t there,” Jackson interjects with a sneer. “He was at the game with the rest of the team. Lydia said he ran off like a little bitch when the lights went out, and he didn’t show his face again until she went to his house and asked him for help.”

Lydia opens her mouth as though maybe she's going to argue with that, but it's Boyd who answers.

“He didn’t run off,” Boyd says, and Derek’s surprised at the amount of disgust in his voice as he glares at Jackson. “Gerard’s men grabbed him off the field and shoved him in their SUV. Then they took him to Allison’s house and tossed him down the stairs. Ask her. She was home the whole time, she must have heard something.”

“I didn’t…” Allison starts, then stops and presses a hand to her mouth to suppress a tiny sob. Immediately Scott’s arm goes around her shoulders, and Derek wants to scream in his face about choosing an Argent over his own best friend, but he knows he doesn’t have any room to talk. He’d heard Scott mention that Stiles had gone missing that night, that the Sheriff was frantic, but he hadn’t even paused long enough to wonder if he should be worried.

“He tried to set us free,” Erica says. Her eyes are bright with tears but she blinks them back and squares her shoulders under Boyd’s grip. “He got shocked by the electricity, but it was obvious that wasn’t going to stop him. Then Gerard showed up and started beating the shit out of him.”

“At first it was just fists,” Boyd continues when Erica’s voice breaks. “He kept asking who was in the pack, where was Derek, what did Stiles know about the plan. Stiles didn’t tell him anything. He just kept saying ‘go fuck yourself’ over and over, and that Scott was probably already on his way to kick Gerard’s ass for messing with his best friend.”

“That’s when Gerard laughed in his face and told him Scott was working with Gerard,” Erica says. ”That they had a whole plan and Derek and his little pack weren’t going to mess it up. After that he strung Stiles up the same way we were, and when he left the basement I figured he was just going to leave us there until he was ready to kill all of us. Only he came back a few minutes later with a belt.”

She pauses and they all suck in a breath, because every single one of them knows what’s coming next.

“He untied Stiles and made him strip down to his boxers, then he tied him up again. That’s when the whipping started.”

Erica describes it all, every moment of torture Gerard put Stiles through, and Derek makes them all listen, because if Stiles had to live it, the rest of them can hear about it. Isaac looks like he might throw up any second, and Derek knows he’s probably remembering his own abuse. There are tears streaming down the girls’ faces and Scott’s too, and even Jackson’s jaw twitches every so often, no matter how hard he’s trying to pretend he’s bored with the whole story.

“There was blood everywhere,” Erica says. “I guess the old man got bored with belts after a while, because he brought out a Taser eventually. Maybe he was trying to kill Stiles, or maybe he just forgot how much humans can take compared to werewolves, I don’t know. Either way, when he held the Taser to Stiles’ chest for too long, his heart stopped.”

“He was dead,” Boyd adds quietly. “As soon as Gerard realized he cut him down and put his clothes back on him. Then he had his men drag him back upstairs and that was that. I figured if we ever made it out of that basement alive, we’d hear that Stiles’ body had been dumped in the woods somewhere.”

“But I saw him that night,” Lydia says, wiping harshly at her wet cheeks. “I went to his house after Jackson was declared dead, and his father let me in. He had a bruise on his cheek and a split lip, but otherwise he seemed fine.”

Deaton clears his throat and taps the book again. Derek finally glances down at it and sees that he’s opened it to an entry on Spirit Walkers. “I believe what happened is that Mr. Stilinski’s heart started again, either on its own or due to the intervention of his captors. When that happened his Spark ignited and began healing some of the damage done by the torture. Regardless, he must have been in quite a bit of discomfort.”

Derek swallows down a rush of guilt at that thought. He’d barely spared a glance for Stiles that night, let alone an actual thought. Despite the fact that Stiles had showed up at the eleventh hour and saved everyone’s asses, Derek was too wrapped up in Scott’s betrayal and the fact that Jackson had survived to worry about what Stiles had been up to all night. He vaguely remembers seeing a bruise on his face, but he didn’t even stop to wonder how it had gotten there.

“So he died. How does that make him magic?” Isaac asks, and he sounds flippant about the fact that Stiles actually _died_ , but his gaze skitters over to Scott as he says it, like he’s trying to figure out how Scott feels about all this.

“As a Spirit Walker, Mr. Stilinski has a foot in both worlds, so to speak,” Deaton answers. “His magic allows him to commune with the spirits, both for guidance and as a way to see beyond the limitations of this realm. Aside from this dual nature, Sparks attract magic to them and are able to wield it with nothing more than their belief. Mr. Stilinski was born on this land, at the center of a powerful confluence of ley lines. The magic in the earth will answer to him as a native son. In essence, this territory belongs to him as much as it does to the Hale Pack.”

Derek bristles at the thought of anyone trying to lay claim to his territory, even someone he considers pack. But Deaton’s right that Stiles is as tied to Beacon Hills as Derek has ever been, and if everything else he’s saying is true, Stiles is tied to the land in a way Derek will never be.

“The reason for the rarity of a Spirit Walker is that generally the Spark is ignited some other way before they can die and touch the other side,” Deaton continues. “As Miss Martin said earlier, the Autumn Court is more closely aligned with Death than any other Fae. If Morgan le Fay herself appeared to Stiles, she was likely called by his dual nature. A Spirit Walker in this territory would be quite interesting to her.”

“Any chance she’ll keep him and save us the trouble?” Jackson asks, earning growls from nearly everyone else this time, Allison included.

Deaton’s expression turns even more serious, a feat Derek frankly wouldn’t have believed possible until he sees it. “I assure you that if Morgan le Fay gave her word Stiles would be returned to his own realm, the accord will be honored. Both Mr. Stilinski and the Unseelie Court can be powerful allies. They would make equally powerful enemies, and it would be unwise to anger them.”

Jackson scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything else. Erica and Boyd both look miserable, likely still caught in memories of the time they spent at the mercy of Gerard. Scott’s staring blankly, tears drying on his face, and Allison doesn’t look much better. Lydia, on the other hand, looks calculating, and Derek really doesn’t want to know what she’s thinking.

“All of you go home and get some rest,” Derek says, feeling suddenly exhausted. He watches them start to file out of the clinic, then he changes his mind. “Scott.”

“Yeah?” Scott asks, blinking out of his thousand yard stare to look back at Derek.

“Meet me at Stiles’ house tomorrow after school.”

“What? Why?” Scott asks, frowning as though he’s already forgotten what he promised to do to cover for Stiles.

“Because I’m going to talk to the Sheriff, and it’ll go better if you’re there,” Derek says, already hoping that he’s not going to regret this decision like he regrets so many others.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles’ first night in the company of the Fae passes in a blur of music and dancing and the soft glow of the bodies surrounding him as they move in a rhythmic pattern. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he’s seen Derek Hale’s unfairly beautiful… _everything_ , so that’s saying something.

But he’s not thinking about Derek. He’s not thinking about home at all, not when he’s surrounded by so many beautiful creatures who seem to enjoy his company. He wakes in a pile of pillows and warm bodies and that ever-present Fae glow, well-rested for the first time since that night with Gerard. He doesn’t even have a headache, in spite of the amount of wine he drank the night before. He didn’t really mean to drink so much, it’s just that his glass seemed to keep refilling itself no matter how fast he emptied it.

“Good morning, Spirit Walker,” Stiles hears, and he looks up to find Queen Morgana herself smiling down on him. “I trust you enjoyed the hospitality of my subjects?”

“Uh…yeah,” he says, then he blushes. “I mean yes, thank you, everyone was very friendly.”

When she holds out her hand he takes it, letting her guide him up out of the pile of sleeping Fae with more grace than he’d ever manage on his own. 

“Indeed, there was much talk of your arrival. There are many eager suitors among my Court if you choose to commune with the Fae in a more permanent capacity.”

It’s the second time since his arrival that someone’s hinted that he might be interested in staying. As in giving up his life and his home and his pack, taking his magic somewhere it would actually be appreciated. He thinks about his dad and wonders what he’d say if Stiles went home and announced he was going to marry into the Unseelie Court and disappear to the Fae realm forever. He wonders if ‘communing’ with one of the Fae would make him immortal, and if so how he’d handle the idea of living forever.

“You would be granted immortality, yes,” the Queen says, smiling when his gaze snaps over to her. “But only on the condition that you dwell in the Fae realm. Many of the Fae take mortal lovers, but only those who choose to forsake the mortal world are granted the powers of the Fae.”

“Good to know.”

Morgana smiles again and loops her arm through his to draw him away from the rest of the Court. “Of course, when your heart is already tethered in the mortal world, it is difficult to imagine making such a pledge to the ever after.”

He opens his mouth to ask what she means by his heart being tethered, to deny that his heart is set on anyone in particular. But it’s a lie, hopeless and pathetic as it is, and he knows she can see the truth whether he wants to own up to it or not.

“Come, young Mieczyslaw, for we have much to discuss, and perhaps you will discover your heart is not so abandoned as you suspect,” the Queen says with an enigmatic smile.

Stiles wants to ask what that means, exactly, but he has a feeling she won’t give him a straight answer, especially if she thinks it’s something he has to discover for himself or whatever. He’s used to dealing with Deaton by now, and he figures Morgan le Fay isn’t going to be any more forthcoming with information if she doesn’t feel like it.

Besides, he’s not here to talk about his pathetic lack of a love life, and he doesn’t want to think about how long he’s been carrying that torch anyway. He’s here to learn about magic, and he’s not going home until he’s learned everything he can.

“So is this when I finally learn what a Spirit Walker is?”

The Queen doesn’t answer right away. She squeezes his arm where her hands are resting on it, warmth spreading through him and waking up the magic resting just behind his heart. He feels it reach out along his veins, comforting and centering him in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“What do you remember of your death?”

The question makes him flinch, mostly because it brings with it a flurry of half-remembered images he tries his best not to think about. “I didn’t die. I mean, I’m sure Gerard would have been happy if I had, but that’s not what happened.”

Morgana stops walking, pulling him to a stop along with her. When he looks back to ask why, she lets go of his arm and takes his hands in hers. Instantly the half-remembered images become real, solid memories, and he gasps at the memory of that last, jolting shock. He feels the Taser burning his skin, then sees the world fading to black around the edges.

He remembers a bright light and the floating sensation of acceptance, a brief moment to wonder if he’ll be able to see his mother again before something inside him flares to life and the world around him turns back on again. He remembers being dumped in front of his own house, remembers stumbling up the walk and not understanding the sinking sense of loss he’s feeling. Then his dad’s there and Stiles is feeding him yet another lie, guilt pushing out every other emotion until finally his father lets him go and Stiles escapes to his bedroom to assess his injuries and plan his next move.

“But if I…how?” Stiles asks, trusting her to understand the question he can’t articulate.

“When you ceased to be, your Spark looked inside you and saw your will to live. That will started your heart again and ignited a fire inside you. Your death and subsequent resurrection ignited your Spark with the power of the Spirit Walker. From that moment you were able to commune with those beyond this world, to seek their counsel and their sight.”

“So…am I supposed to be seeing ghosts? Because I’ve gotta be honest, I haven’t noticed anything except for a warm feeling in my chest sometimes.”

The Queen smiles and takes his arm again to lead him in the direction they’d been headed. “Not seeing ghosts, no. You must seek out the spirits with which you wish to commune. Walking the line between the spirit and mortal worlds is a rare skill, but one for which you were born. Our teachers will guide you in the ways of our magic, and I myself will show you how to commune with the other side.”

“Is it going to involve meditation? I'm, uh...not that great at sitting still.”

Her musical laugh sends more warmth flowing through him, and Stiles finds himself relaxing in spite of the crazy situation he’s found himself in. “It is rare to find a mortal as delightful as yourself, Spirit Walker. It is little wonder half my Court is enamored of you.”

Stiles thinks he should argue, maybe point out that nobody in his own realm is all that enamored of him. Mostly they ignore him or tell him to shut up, and even the one person who’s supposed to love him unconditionally would rather work himself into an early grave than deal with his disappointment of a son. But she seems to believe what she’s saying, and even if Stiles doesn’t really believe it, it’s a nice enough dream to go along with for as long as he can.

* * *

“Did you hide Stiles’ Jeep like he said?” Scott asks when Derek pulls up outside the Stilinski house. The Sheriff’s patrol car is parked in the driveway for once, and Derek wonders if he’s noticed that his son didn’t come home last night or if he’s still expecting Stiles to come home from school any minute now.

“It’s at the loft,” Derek answers as he pockets his keys and heads up the walk.

“But he said…”

“I know what he said,” Derek interrupts. He raises a fist and pounds on the door just this side of too hard. While they wait for the Sheriff to answer Derek thinks idly that despite the fact that he’s been in this house dozens of times, this is the first time he’s ever gone to the front door. All the other times have involved Stiles’ bedroom window, partly to avoid letting the Sheriff in on the truth, but mostly because he’s always kind of gotten a charge out of scaring Stiles.

He has a sudden flash of his mother lecturing a much younger him about kindness. He remembers being mean to one of the younger kids at some party, telling them they couldn’t play basketball with the older kids and even shoving the kid and making them cry. He doesn’t remember why he did it, but he remembers being furious when his mother told him he was old enough to know better and sent him to his room for the rest of the party.

The door opens before he can remember which cousin he’d been bullying, revealing a tired-looking Sheriff Stilinski frowning at them. “Hale. Scott?”

“Hey, Mr. S,” Scott says, flashing a nervous grin before he darts a look at Derek. And Derek can’t blame him for looking for direction, because it’s not like Derek explained the game plan here.

“Sir,” Derek says, keeping his gaze trained on the Sheriff and ignoring Scott. “Could we go inside and talk? It’s about Stiles.”

“What’s he done now?” the Sheriff says, his frown carving deep lines around his mouth and eyes.

“Nothing, sir,” Derek says, which isn’t exactly the truth, but he’s not sure he likes the resigned irritation in the Sheriff’s voice. “But he won’t be home for a while, we’re not sure how long. If you let us in we’ll explain everything.”

“Dude, this was not the plan,” Scott hisses, but the Sheriff’s standing right in front of them, so it’s not like he’s going to miss it. His sharp gaze focuses on Scott for a moment, then he nods once and steps back to let them in.

“What’s this about, son?”

“Uh, Stiles wanted…”

“Stiles has been keeping things from you for a while now,” Derek says, talking over Scott and ignoring the panicked look Scott sends in his direction. “Partly to keep you out of danger, but partly because they weren’t really his secrets to tell.”

The Sheriff’s face turns a little red at the word ‘secrets’, and for a second Derek wonders if maybe Stiles hasn’t been overstating his father’s heart issues all this time. If the Sheriff has a heart attack on Derek’s watch Stiles is going to murder him, and after a week with Morgan le Fay, Derek’s pretty sure he’ll be able to.

Instead of pulling out a gun and shooting them both on principle the Sheriff just waves a hand in the direction of the living room, then he stalks toward the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He doesn’t offer either of them anything, but Derek doesn’t blame him. This isn’t exactly a social call, after all, and if the Sheriff is going to take this badly, it’s probably just as well Stiles isn’t here to see it.

“What are you doing?” Scott whispers as soon as the Sheriff leaves them alone. “Stiles is going to murder both of us.”

“You heard what he said last night,” Derek answers, keeping his voice low. “His relationship with his father is already strained, do you really think it would be better to tell the Sheriff his son’s taken off for an indeterminate amount of time? He’d worry himself into a heart attack. Is that what you want Stiles to come home to?”

“And this is better?” Scott shoots back, but before he gets any further the Sheriff appears with a tumbler full of whiskey. He sits down in a worn recliner and sets his drink on the table next to him, then he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and fixes them with the stare Derek remembers from his visit to the interrogation room at the station.

“So are you going to tell me what it is my son’s been lying about for the past year?”

Derek nods sharply, ignoring Scott’s panicked heartbeat as he settles on the couch and mirrors the Sheriff’s body language. “It starts with werewolves.”

It takes a little while to convince the Sheriff they’re not just messing with him, complete with a physical demonstration, then a little while longer to get him to calm down long enough to hear the rest. Derek sticks to the highlights, only veering off the main story when the Sheriff asks specific questions. Most of them have to do with Stiles, specifically if he’s a werewolf too and why he’s mixed up in all this if he’s not.

He seems ready enough to accept the notion that Stiles stuck around for Scott’s sake, that he somehow views himself as responsible for keeping Scott alive even though he’s not the one with superpowers. Or he wasn’t, but that’s all changed now, which is a whole other explanation that takes the Sheriff a little less time to come to grips with.

“Ah, hell,” he says when Derek tells him that Stiles is a Spark. He leaves out the part about spirit walking, mainly because he doesn’t want to be the one to tell the Sheriff that his son died, albeit briefly. Derek still hasn’t wrapped his own head around that detail, despite lying awake most of the night picturing what Stiles had gone through and wondering why in the hell he didn’t tell anyone.

He’d asked Boyd the night before why Stiles made them promise not to tell, but all he’d said was that when they’d seen him next after Chris let them go, Stiles had pretended not to remember details and insisted it was no big deal. He’d apologized for not getting them out of the basement himself, then he’d told them he just wanted to forget it ever happened and made them promise not to mention that he’d been there.

Derek knows there’s more to it than that, but he’s not going to get answers until Stiles comes back. So instead of telling that part of the story he just mentions Deaton recognizing Stiles’ Spark, then he talks about his skill with mountain ash and his research on the Fae. When he mentions Stiles going out to look for the Fae alone the Sheriff bristles, then he lets out an exasperated sigh and drains the whiskey in his tumbler. 

Derek frowns at that, but he doesn’t tell the Sheriff that it’s his fault Stiles was out in the woods alone. Instead he just says that Stiles knew exactly where to find the Fae, that he knew how to approach and that as part of their accord, the Queen of the Fae had offered to teach him magic. So now he’s somewhere in another realm entirely, out of the reach of anyone in their world, as far as Derek knows, and he should be home in about a week.

“You’re telling me that my son isn’t even _on this plane_?” the Sheriff says, his eyes narrowing as he glances between Scott and Derek.

“Technically we think he’s still in the preserve somewhere,” Scott answers, sheepish. “At least that’s what Deaton says. We just can’t get to him.”

“I suppose I should have expected something like this,” the Sheriff says, leaning back and running his hands over his face.

“Sir?” Derek asks, frowning when he stands up and heads back to the kitchen in search of another drink.

“My mother used to tell stories, when Stiles was just a little kid,” the Sheriff continues when he comes back with a freshly filled tumbler. “I’m first generation American. My folks immigrated after the war. I thought my mother was just telling him fairy tales from the old country, you know? She used to call him her little light, I didn’t think she actually meant anything by it. Then she died, and my father’s always been a miserable son of a bitch, so after she was gone Claudia and I kept Stiles away from him.

“Then Claudia died and I forgot all about those stories. I assume Stiles forgot too; the kid grew up so fast after his mom was gone.”

The sour scent of shame fills the air and Derek’s nose wrinkles, but he does his best to smooth his features into a blank mask. “I doubt there’s much you could have done, sir. According to Deaton, Stiles’ magic is tied to the land itself. The fact that Beacon Hills is sort of a magical supernova means there was really no avoiding this.”

“Maybe if I’d taken all those stories more seriously he wouldn’t have felt the need to run off with a bunch of fairies,” the Sheriff grumbles, and Derek doesn’t point out that the technical word is Fae, because he’s pretty sure the Sheriff doesn’t care.

“If it helps at all, my mother was friendly with Queen Morgana. She’ll make sure Stiles is protected and returned in good time.”

He hopes he sounds more convincing than he feels. The truth is he doesn’t remember his mother ever saying a word about the Fae, so really he’s only got Deaton’s word to go on. But the Sheriff seems to relax a little at the mention of his mother, so Derek counts it as a win.

“Your folks were good people. I always suspected that fire wasn’t an accident, but there was no evidence to go on.”

“No, sir,” Derek says, dread filling him at the idea that the Sheriff will push for answers he doesn’t want to give, especially in front of Scott. But he doesn’t push it; instead he reaches for his glass and drains it for the second time, then he lets out a heavy sigh and scrubs his hands over his face again.

“All right, well, if that’s all, I’ve got a shift to get ready for.” The Sheriff stands up, so Derek and Scott follow his lead and let him usher them toward the front door. “But don’t think this conversation is over. We’re all going to have plenty of talks about what’s been going on in my town. And if you hear from my kid…ah, hell, just let me know if you hear from him.”

With that they find themselves back out on the porch, then the door’s shutting in their faces and Derek finds himself wondering if any of that actually happened or if he hallucinated the last two hours of his life.

“Stiles is definitely going to murder you,” Scott says, shooting a look in his direction that tells Derek Scott’s perfectly happy to sell him down the river, and Derek’s not entirely sure he’s wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles loses track of time after the first couple days with the Fae. At least he thinks it’s been a couple days, but the Court seems to exist in a weird pocket of reality where there’s no real change in light or weather, so for all he knows he’s been with them for years. 

He continues to get hit on by impossibly beautiful people of all genders, and he continues to politely turn them all down. It’s not that he’s not up for it, exactly, but he is a little worried about accidentally binding himself to one of them and being stuck in the Unseelie Court for the rest of eternity.

Morgana assures him more than once that he’s free to _commune_ with whoever he likes without danger, and Stiles gets that she’s basically telling him he can have all the casual Fae sex he wants without having to worry he won’t get to go home. Still, something about it feels wrong, so to his great frustration, he keeps shutting down the beautiful people who practically throw themselves at him every chance they get.

He has a feeling he knows the real reason he can’t bring himself to react to anyone’s advances, but the thought pisses him off, so he tries not to dwell on it. He refuses to believe he’s ruined for any other relationship just because one specific person doesn’t want him. He just needs a little time, probably, maybe a little distance too. Then again, he had plenty of distance for six years, and just as soon as…

But he’s not thinking about that. Stiles grits his teeth and focuses back on the reading he’s been assigned by Orin, one of the magic teachers Morgana introduced him to on his first day. The truth is that there’s not much to learn when it comes to _using_ his magic, mainly because the key is to believe that something will work and it does. Still, that doesn’t mean the theory won’t help, and understanding the physics of magic will help him to believe enough to make it work.

That’s what Orin tells him, anyway. Not in those exact words, because Stiles is pretty sure the Fae have no use for physics, but it boils down to the same thing. It’s all about knowing the rules so he can break the rules, and that’s a philosophy Stiles has been living by for as long as he can remember.

Learning to Spirit Walk is a whole different story. Part of that is belief too, mainly the belief that he’ll be able to find the spirit he’s looking for and get their attention long enough to make contact. But first he has to get into the right headspace, and so far if Morgana isn’t there helping him, he hasn’t been able to do it.

Privately Stiles thinks that maybe it’s his own fault he hasn’t been able to do it. He’s been attempting to contact his mom, which is no surprise to anyone, but what he hasn’t admitted out loud is that there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to see her. The quiet, guilty part of him that still half-believes he really did kill her, the same part of him that worries she’s going to be disappointed in the way he’s turned out.

Stiles knows it’s crazy. He knows how much his mom loved him, and when she was in her right mind she was as proud of him as any parent could be. There’s no reason to believe she’d hold against him the way his relationship with his dad has fallen apart, even if Stiles blames himself for it. She would never blame him for sticking by his friends, either, not when she’s the one who taught him the importance of loyalty. Still, it’s hard to let go of his fears, and so far it’s kept him from making any real progress in crossing the barrier that will give him access to the spirit world.

In the end he has to give up on trying to contact his mom in order to make any progress. Once he puts her out of his mind and focuses on the spirit world itself instead of tracking down one specific spirit, he feels the veil lift just enough for the whispers of voices to come through. He doesn’t know what to expect, but instead of seeking out any one person he lets his focus wander, taking in the whispers until one in particular grows loud enough to drown out the others.

“My sweet little light, how you have grown,” a familiar voice says. The words are accompanied by the scents of spiced meat and cabbage and a flowery old lady perfume that always made his nose itch as a kid, and Stiles feels his heart beat a little faster.

“Babcia?” he says, blinking his eyes open to seek out the familiar features he hasn’t seen since before his mother died.

He hasn’t thought much about his grandmother over the years, her death overshadowed by the loss of his own mother not long after his father’s mother passed away. But he remembers the stories she used to tell him, rich tales of creatures and magic, woven into stories about the forests of Poland where she grew up. As a kid he believed them without reservation, never doubted her for a second when she whispered to him that there was more to the world than met the eye.

In hindsight, maybe his Babcia’s stories were the reason it was so easy for him to accept the supernatural world once he’d stumbled into it. Or maybe that was just his Spark crying out for recognition; either way, he knows now that all the stories she’d told him were true.

“I am proud of you, my light,” she says, her smile making the corners of her eyes crinkle. “You have come so far in such a short time and withstood such adversity.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve withstood much, Babcia,” he answers, swallowing a rush of shame at the thought of all the people he’s let down. If he’d figured out this magic stuff sooner maybe he could have prevented some of the terrible things that had happened in the past year. 

“Kochanie, you have the heart of a lion,” she says, and he feels the ghost of a caress against his cheek. “Your mother and father are both so proud. Though your father wishes you had told him sooner about those wolves of yours. But he cannot say I did not try to tell him. Your mother would have believed, and perhaps she would have convinced him, but she was taken from you too soon.”

“Wait, Dad knows about werewolves? How?”

“I will lend you my eyes so that you may see,” she says, and Stiles feels a ghostly hand press over his eyes before images begin to flash in his vision. Derek and Scott standing at his front door, and he barely has a second to enjoy the irony of Derek using the door for the first time before he’s seeing Derek sitting in his living room, his father drinking whiskey and looking like he’s on the verge of a heart attack while Scott looks like he wishes he was anywhere else on the planet.

“They told him?” Stiles growls, the sound too similar to a wolf’s. “They had no right.”

“No, kochanie, but it was done out of love.” She purses her lips when he makes a disbelieving noise and he knows if she was solid enough she’d smack him upside the head. “Concern, then, if you like, stubborn boy.”

“That still doesn’t give them the right to make decisions for me,” Stiles grumbles. Though really he should be used to Derek making decisions for him by now. If he could just bring himself to stop fighting it his life would be so much easier.

“But it has reminded your stubborn father of exactly how special you are. I knew from the moment of your birth that you would be a great Spark someday. Though I am sorry for how your light ignited, I am glad to speak with you again, Mieczyslaw. You take too much on your shoulders. Not everything is your responsibility.”

Stiles shrugs and looks away, but beyond his grandmother’s familiar features the veil is gray and insubstantial and hard to look at for long. “There’s plenty that wouldn’t get done if I didn’t do it.”

His father’s meals, for starters. Sure, he’d feed himself without Stiles’ intervention, but it would all be fried garbage and red meat and he’d probably already be well on the way to heart disease. Then there’s the laundry and keeping the house reasonably clean, chores that shouldn’t necessarily fall on the shoulders of a seventeen-year-old kid, but who’s going to do it if he doesn’t?

That’s half the reason he’s thinking about sticking close to home for college. If he’s not around to look after his dad, who’s going to do it? Certainly not the pack, and if Stiles is thinking about sticking around a little bit because of them too, well, that’s just because he doesn’t know when to cut his losses and walk away.

“Babcia,” he says, “you haven’t seen Mom since you’ve been here, have you?”

“Your mother loves you more than life itself, kochanie,” she answers, her expression more fierce than he’s ever seen on his grandmother’s normally kind face. “When you are ready, she will be waiting.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says. He lets out a deep breath and tells himself that his mother won’t hold it against him that he’s not ready yet. Not if she’s been watching him all this time and seeing every single struggle, and somehow just knowing that she’s been there all along makes the tight knot in his chest loosen just a little. “Thanks, Babcia.”

He feels the ghost of a kiss press against his forehead, then gentle fingers card through his hair the same way he remembers his grandmother doing when she used to tuck him in at night. “You are loved, Mieczyslaw. Never forget that.”

“I’ll try,” Stiles murmurs to himself, the veil between worlds slipping gently back into place as he sinks slowly back into the Fae realm.

* * *

It takes less than twenty-four hours for Derek to regret his decision to tell the Sheriff about the supernatural. Not because the Sheriff isn’t handling the information well, but because he’s got as many questions as Stiles did in the beginning, and no qualms whatsoever about calling Derek and demanding answers.

Derek probably should have realized that Stiles got his inquisitive nature from somewhere, and that by dropping all these secrets on the Sheriff when Stiles wasn’t around to answer all the follow-up questions, the task would fall on Derek’s shoulders.

He’s just dragging himself home from another round of questions down at the station, this time about the stack of open cases on the Sheriff’s desk going back nearly a decade, when Peter resurfaces for the first time in over a month. Derek has no idea where he’s been; he never knows where Peter’s going when he disappears, and frankly he’s never really cared all that much. But ever since Stiles disappeared into thin air Derek’s wanted to ask his uncle what he knows about Spirit Walkers, if there’s anything Deaton left out that they need to worry about.

“Nephew, you’re looking more bedraggled than usual,” Peter says, letting himself into the loft as though he’s just coming home after an afternoon out instead of a month away.

“The Sheriff’s been going through old cases and he asked for my help determining which ones are related to the supernatural,” Derek admits with a heavy sigh. He sits down on the couch and leans forward, not bothering to look at his uncle as Peter lets himself into the kitchen and helps himself to a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Stiles told the Sheriff about the supernatural?”

“No,” Derek answers, “I did. After Stiles accepted Morgan le Fay’s invitation to the Fae Realm to learn how to use his Spark. I couldn’t exactly come up with a reason for the Sheriff’s son to disappear for an entire week without a trace, so I told him the truth.”

Peter appears in his line of sight, his expression showing surprise for once instead of the mask of amused disdain he usually wears. “His Spark finally ignited? I knew I should have persuaded him to accept my offer of the bite. What a glorious wolf he would have been.”

“When did you offer him the bite?” Derek says, eyes narrowing, because this is the first he’s hearing about it. It seems there’s a lot Stiles hasn’t told him about the dangers he’s put himself in, and the thought makes Derek’s wolf bristle.

Peter waves a dismissive hand and takes a seat on the loveseat across from him. “A lifetime ago, no need to get territorial. Even if you haven’t peed on him, everyone knows he’s considered your property.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek asks, voice going low and dangerous, but rather than cowering the way his other betas might, Peter just rolls his eyes.

“Fine, have it your way. It was the night I tracked you down and saved you from Kate’s clutches. Stiles was good enough to help me track you using the signal in Scott’s phone, and as a thank you I offered him the bite. He declined, sadly, and I took him at his word because I was pressed for time. But a bitten Spark makes for a very powerful wolf indeed. I suppose I thought there would be more time to persuade him.”

“So you knew he was a Spark.”

“Of course, Derek. Your mother was courting him for the pack, we all knew exactly what he was. Though of course that fell through rather spectacularly,” Peter adds in a tone that somehow implies that Derek had something to do with it falling through.

He has no idea what Peter’s talking about, doesn’t remember a time when Stiles was around their pack, let alone being courted. He’d still been a kid himself when his entire family died, so there was no way he could have affected any sort of alliance with the Stilinskis.

“What do you know about Spirit Walkers?” Derek asks rather than dwell on his mother and her aspirations for their pack any longer than necessary.

The question makes Peter sit up straight, all the sarcasm fading from his expression. “Is that what he’s become? How?”

“Gerard Argent took him the night Scott betrayed me,” Derek answers, a growl escaping him unbidden. “Apparently he tried to torture information about the pack out of him, assuming he’d be the weak link. Boyd and Erica were there, they witnessed everything. They said Stiles’ heart stopped when Gerard electrocuted him.”

“Good lord,” Peter murmurs, half to himself, but it’s not as though Derek disagrees. Between Deaton and now Peter’s reaction, it’s clear that Stiles is going to be something to see when he finally comes home, but Derek has no idea what to expect.

It makes him wonder what Stiles would have been like if he had accepted the bite, if he would have been loyal to Peter or if he would have still helped Derek defeat him that night. He wonders why he’s never once thought to offer the bite to Stiles himself. Sure, at first they’d been sort of on opposite sides of things, but through it all Stiles was still the one to be there to pull his ass out of the fire, as it were.

Even when he talked about leaving Derek to die he’d done exactly the opposite. He’d proven himself trustworthy when the very last thing Derek wanted to do was trust him. The human, the weak link, yet somehow he’d been more loyal to Derek than even his own uncle. Peter’s right, he would have made an amazing werewolf, but Derek had never even considered it.

“It’s too late,” Peter says, fixing Derek with a knowing look. “Now that his Spark has manifested, he’ll be immune the same way Miss Martin is. Biting him won’t make a single bit of difference. Though I imagine he wouldn’t complain all that loudly if you tried.”

Derek opens his mouth to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but he decides he doesn’t want to know. Stiles is a kid, and he’s the Sheriff’s son, and he’s annoying, and Derek doesn’t think of him that way. Even if he did, Stiles is the type of person who’d never settle for anything less than true love, and Derek swore off love when he got his whole family killed.

If he ever takes a mate it will be to have children, to carry on the Hale legacy, and that’s all. Stiles can’t give him that, and Derek can’t offer the kind of love Stiles deserves, so they have nothing to offer each other.

“Deaton seems to think he has a claim to the land,” Derek says instead, changing the subject again. Peter rolls his eyes, but he allows it, so Derek’s not complaining. 

“He was born here, so yes. That’s why your mother intended to court him. He would have been Hale Pack years ago if things hadn’t gone awry with his first introduction. That’s why, even while I was mostly out of my mind, I couldn’t just bite him like I did the others. I offered the bite because my wolf already saw him as pack, and when he refused I had to respect his decision.”

“Why doesn’t the rest of the pack recognize him that way? As far as most of them are concerned he’s still just the human sidekick.”

Peter rolls his eyes again, telling Derek exactly what he thinks of the rest of the pack. “Because you managed to bite the most worthless group of teenagers in this godforsaken town. Granted, I must take responsibility for Scott. But the rest of them are on your conscience, Derek. How you managed to find all the outcasts and misfits who would turn into the very bullies they feared the moment they got a little power, I’ll never know. Then again, you were exactly like them as a teenager, so perhaps like is drawn to like.”

“I wasn’t a bully,” Derek says, frowning at the insinuation. Sure, he’d let being captain of the basketball team go to his head a little starting in junior high, but by the time he hit seventeen he was barely a shell of his former self. Then again, Peter actually _was_ a shell of his former self by then, so he couldn’t know what Derek became after the fire.

“You were arrogant and self-involved and your mother despaired of you ever growing out of it,” Peter says, raising an eyebrow when Derek opens his mouth to deny it. “That pack of yours is no better. You’ve let them believe that becoming a werewolf makes them better than the lowly humans in their midst.”

“Are you saying you don’t think wolves are superior to humans?”

Peter smiles at that, but it’s a cruel smile, dark and twisted. “I think you’ll find that I only despise the wrong kind of humans. I never placed myself above my own wife, did I? And if our child had been born a human, I would have loved it all the same.”

Derek flinches at the mention of Peter’s human mate and their unborn baby. It’s the first time he’s mentioned either of them since the fire, and Derek knows he must be serious if he’s bringing them up to prove his point.

“It’s clear that _you_ still believe yourself better than humans,” Peter says, sneering a little, but at least it chases away the grief that overtook his features for a moment. “But that’s irrelevant, because our young Spark is hardly an ordinary human, is he? There’s a reason your mother was so intent on bringing him into the pack, Derek. Make no mistake, Stiles is the one asset you can’t afford to throw away.”

“I’m not throwing him away,” Derek says, but he can’t help remembering the look on Stiles’ face just before he disappeared into the Fae realm, and he wonders if maybe Stiles’ place in the pack isn’t quite as solid as Derek wants to believe. “Why are you sticking up for him, anyway? He hasn’t exactly made it a secret that he doesn’t trust you.”

“Because of my crimes against the Hale Pack, for which I deserve a certain amount of distrust,” Peter concedes, which is frankly more honesty than Derek ever expected from him. “Dear Stiles is unflinchingly loyal to the Hale Pack for reasons he may never truly understand and we certainly don’t deserve, but there it is.”

It’s true, and part of the reason Derek’s always been so spooked by Stiles and his loyalty. Until now he’s never understood the reasons behind it, why a human unconnected to him and his family would fight so hard for him. But Stiles showed that same level of loyalty to Scott and Lydia and even Jackson, all before they were part of the Hale Pack, so maybe he’s just a better person than Derek wants to give him credit for.

He’s had trouble giving Stiles credit since the day they first met out in the woods, when Derek wrote him off as a clueless human even though Stiles knew not only who Derek was, but exactly what Scott had become. It’s not fair and he knows it, but there’s something inside of him that keeps pushing Stiles away, keeping him at arm’s length and underestimating his value because he’s afraid of what will happen if he ever lets Stiles in.

Still, he’s part of the supernatural world now, and he’s tied to this territory the same way Derek is. Even more so, maybe, because Derek’s walked away before, but Stiles is tied to the power of the land in a fundamental way. So they’ll just have to find a way to work together, and the rest of the pack will come around in time.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles has no idea how long he’s been in the Fae realm. Long enough to read through quite a bit of Orin’s library, and long enough for his hair to grow longer than it’s been since his mother died and his father started shaving it so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. He’s been on a few Spirit Walks now, a couple more visits with his Babcia and a few conversations with spirits he didn’t know in life, but who sought him out for whatever reason.

He supposes he’s a bit of a novelty in the spirit world just as he is among the living. If there aren’t very many Spirit Walkers out there, it makes sense that the spirits would take whatever opportunities they get to have a conversation with someone from the other side, whether he can get a message to their loved ones or not.

It’s not until he’s successfully Walked without Queen Morgana’s assistance three days in a row that he gets the idea. It’s just a passing thought, really, brought on by Peter and the way he’d explained the tether that had kept him half in the spirit world and half in the mortal world. Tying himself to a banshee was a bit of luck, he’d said, but Stiles doesn’t believe that. He thinks Peter knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what Lydia was and used her as a failsafe just in case Derek realized Peter couldn’t be trusted.

Thinking of Peter makes him wonder how many other spirits are still tethered to the mortal world, and as soon as he starts thinking about them coming back he thinks of Kate Argent. 

He doesn’t really have any reason to believe that Kate’s tethered to anything solid enough to bring her back. But Peter did kill her after he’d already bitten Lydia, so he had a direct line to a banshee standing by at the time. Plus there’s the fact that Gerard is almost assuredly still lurking around out there somewhere, and if anyone could find a way to resurrect his murderous, child molesting daughter, it would be that psycho.

So Stiles puts out some feelers in the spirit world, just to see if he can track her down. As he’s always suspected there’s no actual Hell to banish her kind to, just the spirit world and various degrees of consciousness. So he expects to find Kate floating around somewhere in the weird stasis reserved for tormented souls, maybe, or else existing as one of the dark spirits that lurk in corners and feel like decay and danger.

Instead he finds no trace of her at all, which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, seeing as he’s pretty new at this. But now that he’s thought of it he has to _know_ , and he can only think of one person who’s definitely in the spirit world and definitely keeping tabs on what the Argents are up to.

It doesn’t take long to track down Talia Hale. She seems to be waiting for him, in fact, her form almost solid when her spirit appears in front of him and smiling that smile he remembers seeing a few times as a kid. She’s just as beautiful as he remembers, just as gorgeous as her kids, and Stiles knows if he was in his corporeal body right now he’d be blushing.

“Hello, Stiles,” she says, her voice filled with affection he doesn’t think he really deserves. “I have quite a bit to thank you for.”

“What? No, I haven’t done anything.”

“Sweetheart, no one has done more for my son than you. I’m sorry he can’t see that right now, and I’m sorry that as a mother I failed him in so many ways, but I’m grateful that you’ve stayed by his side while he struggles to find his path.”

“Derek’s doing okay,” Stiles says, though he’s not exactly sure why he’s defending the guy who treats him like he’s completely useless. “Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but his heart’s in the right place, and I can tell he cares about his pack. Even Jackson, but there’s no accounting for taste.”

She laughs at that, bright and merry and Stiles wonders if Derek ever laughed that way, back before his life burned down around him. “Oh, you’ve grown into a fine young man, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugs, but he can’t help the pleased smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She’s not his mother, he only remembers meeting her a handful of times as a kid, but it’s still nice to hear praise from a parent after so long. God knows his dad hasn’t had much reason to praise him lately, and who knows what he’s going to say about all this when Stiles gets home.

“Speaking of Derek, I guess you know why I wanted to talk to you.”

Her smile fades into a sorrowful expression and she shakes her head. “You won’t find her here, I’m afraid. Peter didn’t kill her. His claws turned her instead, but it took a long time for her to heal, and by the time she did Gerard had gotten her far away from anyone who would recognize her.”

“Oh, God. Don’t tell me we have to fight another Kanima.”

“No,” Talia answers with a faint smile. “Though she is not a werewolf, either. She took the form of a werejaguar and hid in the jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula until she could recover her full strength. Since then she’s been plotting her revenge against Derek and Peter both.”

“Okay,” Stiles says with more confidence than he feels. “So we just have to take her out first and make sure it sticks this time. I really wish people would stop coming back from the dead.”

“There’s more,” Talia tells him with a rueful smile. “Peter and Derek both believe that my youngest daughter, Cora, died in the fire, but she wasn’t in the house. She was playing in the woods when the fire started. In her fear she ran away and eventually made her way to some of our allies who found her a place with a pack in Mexico. They’ve raised her as their own, but she’s heard the rumors that a Hale Alpha has come back to claim the territory. Kate’s first strike will be against Cora as soon as she leaves the safety of her current pack.”

“Okay,” Stiles says again. He’s starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation, and he’s not exactly looking forward to telling Derek and Peter that not only is Cora still alive, but Kate too.

He listens carefully while Talia tells him what he needs to know to find both of them. He knows Derek’s going to want to rush in with no plan as soon as he hears the news, so he says goodbye to Talia and promises to keep looking out for Derek, then he closes the veil and goes in search of Orin and the Fae library.

Werejaguars have a specific kind of magic, according to the sources he finds, most of it focused on dark intent. It’s nowhere near as strong as the magic Stiles yields even with the short amount of time he’s had to practice, but it means that Derek and Peter would be walking right into a trap if they tried to confront Kate on their own. Stiles knows it’s going to be an epic argument, but it’s one he can’t afford to lose if he wants to get all the Hales back to their own territory in one piece.

Stiles sighs and heads out of the library in search of the Queen. He finds her perched on her throne, the King himself next to her and both of them smiling a little sadly when he approaches. “Your Majesties.”

“You have found the answers you sought, Spirit Walker,” Queen Morgana says with a sigh. “I’d hoped you would pass the entire season with us.”

“Apologies, Your Highness,” Stiles answers. “If I could stay I would, but this is a pressing matter. The Hales need my assistance.”

“For Talia’s sake, I will grant you leave,” she says. She holds a hand out and for a second Stiles thinks she wants him to take it, but a moment later a plant with delicate yellow flowers appears in her palm. “Take this and use your magic to make it flourish. It is a special strain of wolfsbane that is effective against the _Nagual_. Take care with your wolf brethren, however, as it will affect them as well.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Stiles says. He takes the plant and cradles it in his own hands, then he offers the king and queen an awkward bow. “And thank you both for your hospitality.”

“You are always welcome among the Fae of the Autumn Court, Spirit Walker. Perhaps next time we meet your heart will be unfettered.”

Stiles grants her what he hopes is a convincing smile, but he’s pretty sure it falls flat. He doesn’t have time to think about his heart, though, not when Cora’s out there somewhere facing a danger she doesn’t know about, and Kate Argent’s not only alive, but more deadly than ever.

Morgana stands and moves toward him, stopping just in front of him and taking his face in her hands. For a moment she just smiles fondly, and Stiles can sense that she really is sorry to see him go. It’s such a change from what he’s used to that he almost changes his mind, agrees to stay and let Derek sort his own shit out for once. But he knows he won’t be able to live with himself if he does that, so Stiles swallows a sigh and stares back at her until the queen leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.

He feels the warmth of the Fae glow before he sees it, then the clearing around him ceases to be, and a moment later he’s blinking down at the fairy ring where he’d met Morgan le Fay so many nights ago. Stiles sighs and looks around at the dark woods, wishing for his phone or a flashlight to help him get home faster. It takes him a second or two to remember that he’s _magic_ , and when he does he rolls his eyes and huffs out a soft laugh.

“Here goes nothing,” he murmurs into the night, then he closes his eyes and _believes_ that when he opens them he’ll be back in his own yard.

* * *

Derek’s alone in the loft when he smells a burst of ozone in the air, then the sound of footsteps hurrying up to his door. He tenses and starts to shift when he catches another scent, familiar and comforting in a way he doesn’t let himself think about.

 _Stiles_ , he thinks, and launches himself across the loft to pull the door open.

He’s only been gone nine days, and Derek will deny with his dying breath that he’s been counting them, but his heart’s beating faster all the same when he pulls the door open and finds himself face to face with Stiles.

He looks…good. His hair’s long enough to run fingers through now, which is weird considering he had a buzz cut the last time Derek saw him. It looks good on him, makes him look a little older than the baby-faced kid Derek last saw in the preserve. His skin’s got a glow to it, whether from his own magic or from spending so much time with the Fae, Derek doesn’t know. What he does know is that it suits him, and Derek’s fingers twitch with the urge to grab him and drag him forward until Derek can press himself along the lines of Stiles’ body.

But he’s got plenty of experience with denying himself the things he wants, so Derek takes a step back and lets Stiles slip past him into the loft. “You’re back.”

“Brilliant deduction,” Stiles says without any of his usual sting. “Is Peter around?”

“Peter? Why?” Derek asks, frowning at Stiles’ back while he glances around the loft as though he’s expecting Peter to be lurking somewhere.

“Because I have something to tell both of you, and I’d just as soon not have to repeat myself.”

Derek frowns a little harder at that, but he reaches for his cell phone and pulls up Peter’s contact. “He’s back in town. I’ll text him.”

Derek types for a few seconds, sending the text before he looks up at Stiles again. He’s leaning against the couch watching Derek, eyes darker than Derek remembers and making him feel a little like Stiles can see right through him.

“So I heard you talked to my dad.”

“What did he say?” Derek asks, tensing for the argument he knows is coming. And maybe a little part of him knows he deserves it, because sure, he was trying to help, but it might have been smarter to talk to Stiles about it before he told the Sheriff the truth.

“I haven’t seen him yet. He wasn’t around when I stopped at home, which is probably just as well, because if he was the chances of him letting me come over here would have been pretty much nonexistent.”

“Did Scott tell you?”

“My grandmother told me. Well, showed, really, but that part’s not important.”

“Your grandmother?” Derek says, frowning in confusion this time, because he doesn’t remember Stiles ever mentioning a grandmother before.

“Yes, Derek, I had to hear from my dead grandmother that you ran straight to my dad as soon as my back was turned and told him everything. Which means he’s probably never going to let me out of the house again, so if you were looking for a way to get rid of me, congratulations, you probably succeeded.”

“That’s not…”

“Save it,” Stiles snaps, eyes narrowed before he lets out a sigh and the fight just drains out of him. “Not like it matters. I’ll help you deal with this situation and then we can all just move on.”

 _Move on._ It sounds so final, like maybe when Stiles says ‘move on’, he means ‘move on from the pack’. But he can’t be that mad about Derek telling his father the truth, can he? Okay, Derek can admit maybe it was the wrong decision, but it’s no reason to walk away from them now that he actually has the skills to protect himself.

“What situation?” is all Derek says, though he’s not sure he wants to know.

“I’ll tell you when Peter gets here.”

Derek nods and glances down at his phone, at the text from Peter saying he’s on his way. It took mentioning Stiles to get him to agree to come, but Derek’s not really all that surprised about that.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about what Gerard did to you?”

For a second Stiles’ eyes go wide and shocked, then he frowns and huffs a sigh. “Erica.”

“She said you died, Stiles. You didn’t think that was something we should know?”

“Why?” Stiles asks, eyes flashing in defiance. “What difference would it have made? Besides giving you one more reason to keep the weak human out of things, I guess. Anyway, you obviously had more important things to do than worry about me that night. If I’d stayed dead your pack wouldn’t have to worry about the useless human dragging them down anymore, right?”

Stiles has never been useless, but Derek can’t bring himself to say so. Admitting even that much feels too much like he’s confessing to something else, something important that he’s tried hard to keep locked away for a long time now. He’s saved from the effort of coming up with an answer at all when the loft door slides open, and Derek glances over his shoulder in time to watch Peter walk in.

“Stiles, so good to see you,” Peter says, smug smile firmly in place. “You’re looking very well indeed. It seems the Fae realm agrees with you.”

If Derek didn’t know better he’d swear Stiles is blushing, but if there’s anyone who’s not going to fall for Peter’s flirting, it’s Stiles. Besides, he really does look good, and there’s a small, quiet part of Derek that wishes he had the courage to say so out loud.

“Save it, Dead Wolf Walking,” Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. “I need to talk to you both and it’s not going to be an easy conversation, so I need you to find your zen or whatever and not kill the messenger, okay?”

“Just spit it out, Stiles,” Derek growls a little more harshly than he intended.

“Fine. While I was in the spirit world I started thinking about Peter and how he’d tethered himself to the human world. I know you say it was chance,” he says with a suspicious glance at Peter, “but either way you were already tied to Lydia when you killed Kate.”

Derek hears Peter suck in a sharp breath and looks over at his uncle in time to watch him go pale. “I didn’t…”

“No,” Stiles says, his voice softening just enough to sound almost compassionate. “But I wasn’t sure at the time, and even if she hadn’t somehow piggybacked onto your tether I wouldn’t put it past Gerard to have figured out a way to bring her back himself. So I went looking for her soul.”

“And?” Derek asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer. His whole body tenses and he has to stop himself from racing out of the loft and tearing the world apart to find her and kill her again, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. So instead he crosses his arms a little tighter over his chest, trying to hold himself together while he listens to Stiles take in a deep, steadying breath.

“And I couldn’t find her. Not a trace of her, not even a hint that she’d ever been there. So I went looking for the one soul I knew I could find who’d have a good reason to keep tabs on what was going on with Kate.”

Derek’s first thought is Gerard, and his instinct is to grab Stiles and drag him away from a danger that isn’t there. Or maybe to shake him until his brain rattles and demand to know if he has a death wish. But as far as they know Gerard’s not dead and never has been, and when he hears Peter whisper a familiar name his stomach fills with lead.

“Talia.”

“Yeah. To be honest I think she was waiting for me to show up.”

Peter nods, a rare, sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “My sister knew what you’d become eventually. She tried to court you for the Hale Pack when you were just a child. Do you remember?”

Stiles shakes his head, but something about his expression makes Derek think he’s not being entirely truthful. Derek can’t care about that, though, not when he’s still reeling from the knowledge that Stiles talked to his mother. _His_ mother, like it’s not enough that Stiles gets to talk to his own relatives, he gets to do something Derek will never have the chance to do again.

“My mother was waiting for you.”

Stiles flinches and Derek feels a little guilty for the bite in his voice, but instead of snapping back at him like he usually does, Stiles just nods and looks at Peter. “You didn’t kill Kate. Your claws went deep enough to turn her, and it took her a long time to heal. By the time she turned Gerard had gotten her far away from here. She’s in Mexico.”

“She’s a werewolf?”

“No,” Stiles says, shaking his head ruefully. “I was worried about another Kanima, personally, but it turns out she’s some kind of werejaguar.”

Peter’s eyes flash blue and Derek knows what he’s thinking, that he’s just as ready as Derek to tear out of the loft and run all the way to Mexico if he has to, just to make sure the job is finished this time. He doesn’t care what kind of shifter Kate has become, he just wants her dead before she can burn anyone else’s life down around them.

“There’s more,” Stiles says, as though he can tell how close they both are to losing control. “The reason she went to Mexico. She found your sister.”

This time it’s Derek that lets out a growl, eyes flashing red and his features itching to shift. “Laura’s dead.”

“Not Laura. Your other sister.”

Derek’s moving forward before he realizes it, clawed hands reaching for Stiles to do what, he doesn’t know. Shut him up any way he can, because there’s no way Cora’s been alive all this time without Derek knowing, and there’s no way Derek’s own mother told _Stiles_ of all people about it.

Before he can make contact he’s being forced backwards, and he turns to growl at Peter only to realize his uncle’s nowhere near him. Certainly not close enough to have dragged him backwards, which means…

He looks at Stiles again, watches his hand drop from where it was extended in front of him as though pushing Derek backwards. “I don’t want to use my magic against you, Derek, so get yourself under control. I’m just the messenger here, remember?”

“You know how to find them?” Peter asks, eyes still glued to Stiles as though it’s no surprise that their resident human is suddenly strong enough to get the better of an Alpha werewolf.

“I do. But listen…”

“She killed our pack, Stiles. She’ll pay with her life and she’ll stay dead this time.”

“I’m not arguing your right to kill her,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes at Peter. “If anybody deserves to die it’s that bitch. But you need to listen to me. Cora’s been living with a pack in Mexico since the fire. She didn’t know anyone else had survived, but now she’s heard the rumors that there’s a Hale Alpha in Beacon Hills again. She’s planning to come here, and when she leaves the safety of her pack Kate’s planning to grab her.”

“Then we need to leave right now,” Derek says, fangs pressing into his bottom lip and his eyes still glowing red. “Just tell us how to find Cora.”

“Then what? You’re going to run straight into a trap? Don’t you think Kate’s ready for you? She’s a werejaguar, Derek. They’re not the same as werewolves, they’ve got magic. You need me if you want to beat her.”

Derek’s shaking his head before Stiles even finishes his argument. There’s no way in hell he’s bringing Stiles into that kind of danger, no matter how strong he thinks he is now. “This is about our family, Stiles. We’ll handle it.”

The scowl on Stiles’ face doesn’t quite match the scent of hurt that bursts suddenly from him, but Derek’s too busy thinking about his little sister to worry about what Stiles is feeling. His _alive_ sister, safe all these years and Derek never even had a clue.

“Listen, asshole, you may not want me around, but I’m in this and there’s nothing you can do about it. I made a promise to see justice done and that’s what I’m going to do. If you don’t like it then you can stay the hell out of my way.”

His lip pulls back in a snarl, but before he can tell Stiles exactly where to take his promises, Peter steps in front of him. “Thank you, Stiles. Without you we wouldn’t even know recovering Cora was a possibility. As soon as my nephew pulls his head out of his ass he’ll realize how grateful he should be.”

“Great, I’m glad we’re all on the same page,” Stiles says with his usual biting sarcasm, but the scent of hurt is still lingering. “Now I have to go deal with my dad and explain to him why I’m going to need to take more time off school. Peter, I’ll send you the contact information for Cora’s pack. You should call the Alpha and make sure she stays put until you’re ready to go get her.”

Peter nods like it’s a perfectly reasonable suggestion, then Stiles grabs the Jeep keys and leaves, and Derek rounds on his uncle to snarl at him. “We’re not taking him with us.”

“Honestly, you’ve been irrational about him since the day you two met, and I’ll never understand why. Stiles isn’t your enemy. In fact, he’s our best chance of survival if Kate really has become a _Nagual_.”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s seventeen, Derek, and more of an adult than you were at his age. I’ve already told you how dangerous it would be to alienate him now that his Spark has been ignited, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. If you want to throw away such a powerful ally then that’s your business, I suppose, but until Kate is dead and Cora is safely home where she belongs, I intend to keep him as close as possible.”

Peter doesn’t wait for an answer before he disappears, back to wherever he spends his time when he’s not antagonizing Derek. It’s just as well, because Derek has no idea how to answer him. He doesn’t know how to feel about any of this, not Stiles apparently being a powerful magician or the fact that he talked to Derek’s mother. He doesn’t even know how to feel about the fact that his little sister is out there somewhere, so instead of dealing with any of it he heads for the woods to run until he stops thinking at all.


	7. Chapter 7

When Stiles gets home again his father’s still not there, so he heads around the back of the house to check on the wolfsbane plant Morgana gave him. It’s already grown since he planted it just a little while ago. He pushes more of his magic into the roots, watching as a few more shoots push up through the earth until he’s got a decent crop of little yellow flowers waiting to be harvested and weaponized.

He knows he can’t trust Derek not to try to ditch him and go to South America on a suicide mission, which is why Stiles didn’t give them the information they need to track Kate down. It’s not as though he _wants_ to go running around another whole continent with Derek, but he promised Talia, and he’s planning to keep his word.

He hears the footsteps walking around the house toward him, but Stiles doesn’t look up right away. He waits until his father’s standing right next to him, then he glances to the side to take in his uniform and his tired expression.

“Funny, I don’t remember a flower garden back here when I left the house yesterday.”

“A gift from the Fae,” Stiles says. He pushes a little more magic into the earth, watching a few more shoots of green push up through the dirt to become wolfsbane plants. This time when he glances over at his dad he sees the widened eyes and slightly parted lips that tell him his father wasn’t actually expecting him to perform magic. He knows Derek told him about it, though, so he doesn’t bother to explain.

“I had an interesting conversation with Scott and Derek while you were gone.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Stiles sighs and runs a hand through his hair, wondering briefly if he should shave it again before deciding against it. There’s a part of him that likes the difference, a physical reminder of everything about him that’s changed in the past few months.

“Nice to finally hear the truth, even if I did have to get it from someone else.”

“Yeah, good old trustworthy Scott,” Stiles says, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

“Don’t blame this on Scott, kid. He’s not the one who disappeared for a week without a word. And the way he and Derek told it, you’re the reason Scott’s mixed up in all this in the first place.”

Stiles flinches hard enough to move back a step, then he shakes his head and lets out a laugh that sounds anything but amused. “Sure, it’s all my fault. That sounds about right.”

“Damn it, Stiles, I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah, you did,” Stiles says with a shake of his head, because he knows it’s true. His father’s been giving him the cold shoulder for nearly a year now, fed up with all the lies he assumes Stiles has been telling to keep himself out of trouble, when really all he’s been trying to do is protect his so-called friends. Friends who wait until he finally takes _one_ thing for himself for the first time in all of this mess, and run straight to his dad to explain how every messed up situation they’ve gotten into since Derek showed up is all Stiles’ fault.

“The bottom line is that you’re the one who lied to me.”

Stiles doesn’t bother pointing out that Scott’s lied to his father’s face plenty of times, or that it didn’t take much to convince Scott to go out into the woods with him that night in the first place. He doesn’t bring up how much Scott’s gotten out of being a werewolf, or how little use he seems to have for Stiles now that he’s a lacrosse star with a hot girlfriend and a werewolf sidekick.

“Yeah, I did lie to you. I lied to protect you and to protect them.”

“You shouldn’t be protecting anyone, Stiles. They’re werewolves, they should be the ones protecting you.”

And maybe that hurts more than anything else, more than the disappointment in his father’s eyes all these months or the way Scott started to slip away from him and didn’t seem to notice or care. Worse even than the fact that Derek still thinks of him as a fragile human, his _dad_ believes that. His dad thinks he can’t look out for himself, even though he’s been looking out for himself since his mom died.

“I’m not helpless, Dad. I’m magic.”

He doesn’t miss the way his dad rolls his eyes, or the quick, dismissive glance he gives the wolfsbane garden growing steadily behind Stiles.

“Growing a few flowers isn’t the same as being able to grow claws.”

“You think this is all I can do?” Stiles asks, his laugh disbelieving. “What exactly did Derek tell you?”

“He said you had a Spark and you were going to learn from the Fae how to use it, that’s all.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes down a fresh surge of irritation. “Of course that’s all he said.”

“So why don’t you tell me,” his father says, arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched, and suddenly Stiles wants to cry, because he really wants his dad to be in his corner. He wants that more than anything, but Derek’s already planted the seed of doubt that his dad was all too ready to buy into, and he can tell just by the way his father’s looking at him that he doesn’t want to believe Stiles is anything special.

“I’m a Spirit Walker, Dad. I can commune with the dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“For one thing, it means I heard from Babcia that Derek and Scott ran over here to tell you everything as soon as they got a chance.”

“You saw your grandmother?”

“Yeah. She called you stubborn.”

“That sounds about right,” his dad says with a chuckle. A second later his smile fades, cop face back in place as his dad looks up at him again. “But that doesn’t mean you need to be involved in any of this. It’s too dangerous. You’re not part of this…pack business. You can walk away.”

Stiles manages not to flinch when his dad says he’s not part of the pack. He’s not surprised Derek managed to work that into the conversation, just to make sure everybody knows that Stiles doesn’t belong. But that doesn’t change the fact that Stiles is tied to the land itself, and he’s got promises to keep.

“I am part of it. Maybe the pack doesn’t want me,” he admits, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, “but I’m a Spark born in Beacon Hills, and that makes this my land to protect whether Derek likes it or not. Part of that means seeking vengeance for wrongs done to the land.”

“Vengeance? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the promise I made to Derek’s mom to right the wrongs done to her family. I’m sorry, Dad, but this is who I am now. You can’t keep me out of it.”

“The hell I can’t,” his dad says, and now he’s got his stubborn face on. 

Stiles blows out a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to push his dad any further away, not when he’s finally in on what’s really going on in Beacon Hills. But there’s no way Stiles is going to go along with a grounding when Kate Argent’s still alive, not when he knows they won’t be able to kill her without his help.

“Look, you can ground me if you want to, but I’m still going to do what I have to do.”

“I can send you away from all this,” his dad says, and Stiles wants to laugh, because that’s exactly what he assumes Derek was going for. “Your mother had an aunt in Ohio, you can go stay with her and get out of all this craziness.”

“Dad, I’m magic. There’s literally no way you can keep me out of it. I’m in it, and it came from your side of the family, so you’ve only got yourself to blame.”

“This isn’t the time for sarcasm, kid.”

“That’s pretty much all I’ve got left.”

The words weigh heavy between them, and suddenly Stiles is struck by just how true they are. If the pack doesn’t want him and his dad’s ready to ship him off to some aunt he’s not sure he’s ever even met, then all he’s got left is his brains and a Spark he’s still not exactly sure how to use. He lets out a breath, suddenly exhausted, and swallows hard against the tightness in his throat.

“Look, if you want to send me away, fine. I’ll finish school in Ohio, not like anybody will miss me. But like I said, I’m connected to the land here. It’s mine to protect, no matter what Derek thinks. You can’t keep me away forever.”

For a second he thinks his father’s going to argue with him, to insist he doesn’t want Stiles gone and they can work all this out. But then his father’s jaw clenches and he looks over at the wolfsbane plants flourishing behind Stiles before he nods once. “I’ll call your aunt and make arrangements.”

Before Stiles can answer his father’s walking away, and Stiles isn’t going to cry about being forced out of the only home he’s ever known – the house where all his memories of his mother still live – and he’s not going to stay where he’s not wanted. He squares his jaw and closes his eyes, _believing_ that when he opens them again he’ll be back in the bedroom that won’t be his for much longer.

* * *

It’s times like these Derek almost wishes he were human, if only so he could feel the ache in his legs and the burn in his lungs after ten miles of running hard. As it is he hasn’t even broken a sweat, and he hasn’t managed to stop thinking no matter how hard he tries.

His mind keeps going back to Cora. His baby sister, alive all this time and he never knew. Shouldn’t he and Laura have been able to feel her through the pack bonds? But they’d been such a mess after the fire, Laura as a new Alpha and Derek drowning in guilt and self-hatred. He probably wouldn’t have recognized the bond if it had been there, and if Cora was part of another pack this whole time, maybe it wasn’t there to sense.

He tries to remember the last time he saw Cora, twelve years old and positive that she knew everything there was to know about the world. Mostly all he remembers is her trying to tag along with him and Laura everywhere, and Derek treating her like an annoyance instead of cherishing every second he had with her and the rest of their family. His every thought was wrapped up in Kate at the time, when he’d see her next and the way she touched him when they were together.

His skin crawls at the memories and he pushes them away, shame burning as bright as it did when he first realized who’d taken his entire world from him. Peter was right; he really was a self-involved little asshole back then, and look what it had cost him.

Derek leans heavy against a tree and runs his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the memories along with the pain. The problem is that as soon as he stops thinking about Cora, his mind goes right back to Stiles. Stiles who spoke to Derek’s mother, of all people. Stiles who somehow has a connection to his family Derek has no memory of, but it must have been important if his own mother sought Stiles out on the other side.

He has no idea what to think about the way Stiles had moved him backwards without even touching him, but Derek had felt the power in Stiles when his magic shoved Derek away. He’s not proud of the fact that he threatened Stiles; it’s far from the first time Derek’s lost his patience, but he’s never used claws on Stiles before. He’s never gone far enough to actually hurt him, even if he’s put a toe over the line once or twice.

A fresh surge of guilt hits him when he remembers slamming Stiles’ face into his steering wheel. He hadn’t deserved it, not when he’d been helping Derek get information the only way he could. Sure, he’d been a smartass about it, but he hadn’t done anything all _that_ terrible. There was just something about him that brought up Derek’s hackles and he couldn’t seem to get a handle on it.

He likes to think he’s gotten better about controlling his reactions to Stiles, but when he reached for him just a few hours ago, claws out and fangs pressing into his lip…well, if Stiles hadn’t stopped him, Derek’s not sure what would have happened. It’s probably a sign that he needs to keep his distance more than ever.

The thought of Stiles following through on his hints about leaving the pack leaves a hollow feeling in his stomach that Derek doesn’t want to think about, so he shoves the thought away along with his uncle’s warning. Sure, Stiles’ magic would make him a powerful pack member, maybe even a great emissary someday, but if he doesn’t want to stay, Derek isn’t going to beg. He’s not a wolf, after all, and that means he won’t feel the connection to the pack the way Derek’s betas do. He can choose to go off and do his own thing, learn with the Fae or join a coven or even find a new pack and become their emissary.

A growl escapes him at the image, and he’s glad there’s no one around to see him losing control. Over _Stiles_. Still, he pictures Stiles with some other pack, working side by side with some other Alpha, and digs his claws into the tree trunk behind him. _Some other Alpha who’d actually make him feel appreciated_ , a treacherous voice that sounds an awful lot like Laura whispers, and Derek swallows down another surge of guilt. 

Laura would have known exactly how to do that, she’d have been able to make the pack work, make them all see that they had to work together to survive. Laura would have been good at all this if only she’d had the chance, though she probably wouldn’t have bitten a bunch of teenagers in the first place. She would have liked Stiles, though, and if his mom had been courting Stiles when he was just a kid, chances are good that Stiles and Laura were supposed to work together eventually.

If Derek hadn’t gotten all of them killed, his mother probably would have found a way to bring Stiles into the pack eventually. He’d been more than eager to jump head first into the supernatural world when Scott was bit, so whatever had caused the problem when he was a kid could have been overcome eventually. 

And if Derek’s family was still alive, Laura would still be in line to be Alpha, and Derek would be training to be her second. Stiles would have been there too, in the heart of their pack, maybe even mated to one of the Hales eventually. He and Cora were nearly the same age, and Derek had plenty of cousins running around before the fire.

He tries to picture Stiles mated to one of his cousins, tries to imagine that’s what his mother had planned back when she was courting him. The thought leaves a tight feeling of dread in his solar plexus, but he can’t explain why, even to himself. Maybe it’s from thinking about his cousins, so many of them still just kids when they died.

But he has a chance to get his sister back, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, Peter’s right that they have Stiles to thank. Maybe without Stiles they’d have found out eventually, but chances are good Cora would have been killed by Kate before they ever knew she was still alive. Now…now they’ve got a chance to get to her first, to keep her safe and take their revenge once and for all at the same time. Derek still doesn’t like the idea of involving Stiles, but with Peter on Stiles’ side Derek knows he’s not going to win that battle.

It’s tempting to leave right now, to leave Stiles and even Peter behind and go straight to Mexico to kill Kate and find Cora. The idea of Stiles being able to take on Kate better than Derek should be laughable, regardless of the power he’s grown into. He wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t Stiles’ fight; he should be hanging out with his friends and worrying about school and college applications, not going to another country to fight the demons from Derek’s past.

Just the thought of Kate anywhere near Stiles makes Derek’s stomach turn, his jaw clenching and his claws scraping through the bark they’re still buried in. He’s not going to let that happen, not when he can do something about it.

The run back into town takes longer than he’d like, but he makes it back to the loft before dark. He half expects Peter to be lurking around, just waiting to catch Derek before he slips out of town. But there’s no one waiting for him, and Derek pauses just long enough to throw a few things into a bag before he locks up and heads for the Camaro.

A voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Stiles reminds him that he has no idea how to find Cora or even Kate, that Stiles kept that information from him specifically so Derek wouldn’t run off without any backup. But it’s easy to ignore that voice when his wolf is howling at him, demanding he keep his pack safe from the past that keeps coming back to haunt him no matter what he does.

This is Derek’s fight and no one else’s. He’s not going to hide behind Stiles and whatever magic he has, and if that means keeping Peter out of it, so be it. Peter’s already had a chance to kill her, after all, so really it’s Derek’s turn now. It’s his vengeance to take, and he’s going to make sure Kate stays dead this time if it’s the last thing he does.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles is in his bedroom when he hears the doorbell ring. It’s been two days since he spoke to anyone, including his father. Mainly his dad hasn’t been in the house, choosing instead to spend his time at the station where he doesn’t have to look at his disappointment of a son. At least Stiles assumes that’s what he’s doing, since when he has been home his dad’s barely looked at him, let alone spoken to him. He hasn’t even mentioned the fact that Stiles hasn’t bothered to go back to school yet, which means either his dad hasn’t noticed or he’s just stopped caring altogether.

He hasn’t heard from Scott since he got back, but that’s not really a surprise. When Scott and Derek took it upon themselves to spill every secret Stiles had been hiding from his father, Scott left his phone at the house, so Stiles didn’t even have to go to the McCall house to get it back. And he can take a hint, regardless of what most people think, so he hasn’t bothered calling his alleged best friend and telling Scott he’s back in town. On this plane of existence. Whatever.

It doesn’t matter, because as soon as he deals with the Hales’ mess his father’s going to ship him off to the middle of nowhere, and Scott’s not going to miss him any more than the rest of the pack will. Which is maybe why he’s been dragging his heels on dealing with Cora and Kate Argent, but all that falls by the wayside when he hears the doorbell ring, then a moment later his dad’s voice floats up the stairs.

“Hale?”

“Sheriff,” Peter answers, and Stiles can’t decide if he’s relieved or disappointed that it’s not Derek at the door. “So sorry to intrude, but I need a word with Stiles, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind, actually,” his dad says as Stiles moves from the landing to halfway down the stairs. “My son’s not involved in any of your pack business, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. You can tell Derek and the rest of them to leave him out of it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sheriff,” Peter says, sounding for all the world like he really does regret whatever he’s about to say. “Stiles is absolutely involved in our ‘pack business’, as you say, and there’s a situation we need his help with.”

“What’s going on?” Stiles says before his dad can answer, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time and skidding to a stop in front of Peter. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t heard from my dim-witted nephew recently, have you?” Peter asks, his expression turning serious as soon as Stiles appears in his line of sight.

“No, not since I talked to both of...oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.”

“Would that I were,” Peter answers with a dramatic sigh, but it doesn’t hide the fear Stiles sees in his eyes. “I’m afraid he’s been missing since just after you left us at the loft. None of the pack have heard from him, and according to Cora’s Alpha he hasn’t turned up in their territory.”

“Unbelievable,” Stiles mutters, though he’s not really sure why he’s surprised. “I don’t suppose he’s just lost in the jungle somewhere?”

The barest hint of a smirk crosses Peter’s face before he schools his features again. “You and I both know he doesn’t have that kind of luck.”

“Well, at least we know he’s still alive, unless your eyes are redder these days.”

Peter flashes blue eyes at him, and Stiles ignores the way his heart trips at the proof that Derek’s still out there somewhere. “Though I suppose it could have skipped me and gone to Cora, but her Alpha didn’t mention any change in status when I spoke to him an hour ago.”

“What the hell is going on?” his dad asks, glancing between Stiles and Peter like they’re both crazy. It probably sounds that way, now that Stiles thinks about it, but he feels a little crazy, so in a way it’s fitting.

“I told you, I made a promise to help the Hale pack set right the crimes that were committed against them. Only Derek apparently decided to go ahead and rush headlong into danger without any backup, as usual, and now I’m going to have to save him too.”

“Like hell you are,” his dad says, a hand closing around Stiles’ bicep as though he thinks physically restraining him is going to make a difference. “You’re not part of all this stuff. As soon as I get ahold of your aunt you’re leaving, we already agreed.”

“And I told you that I _am_ a part of it, Dad. You can send me away, but that’s not going to change anything.”

“It’ll change the fact that I have werewolves showing up at my door.”

“Oh, yeah? You planning to disown Scott, too? And here I thought he was the son you actually trusted.”

Stiles knows exactly how bitter he sounds, but he doesn’t bother trying to take it back. His father made it pretty clear the first time they talked about this that Scott’s more trustworthy than his own son will ever be in his eyes, so if that’s the way he wants it, that’s the way it will be. It’s not going to stop Stiles from keeping his promise to Talia, and it’s not going to change the fact that right now he has two Hales to save from Kate Argent’s murderous clutches.

“Sheriff,” Peter says, and Stiles looks over to see what can only be described as incredulity on Peter’s face, “surely you’re not talking about taking Stiles out of Beacon Hills. You must understand…”

“That’s none of your business,” his dad says, at the same moment Stiles says, “Just leave it, dude. He’s already made up his mind.”

And he’s not going to cry about it, not in front of his dad and certainly not in front of Peter, but from the look he gets, he’s pretty sure Peter can tell how he’s feeling anyway. It looks like Peter might try to argue the point, so Stiles just shakes his head and shakes off his dad’s grip to push Peter back onto the porch. “Are we telling the rest of the pack?”

“Do you really think that’s wise?” Peter asks, one eyebrow cocked in an expression that makes him look too much like Derek.

“No, but it’s not exactly my call. Derek made it pretty clear I’m not pack.”

“Derek’s a fool,” Peter hisses, then he glances back over Stiles’ shoulder to where he’s sure his dad’s still glowering. “How much time do you need to prepare?”

“Stiles,” his dad says before he can answer, and Stiles recognizes the ‘Sheriff voice’. He manages not to roll his eyes, pushing down a fresh wave of hurt that his father’s so eager to be rid of him.

“Fine,” he says, a heavy sigh escaping him. “Look, Peter, go back to the loft, look around and see if you can figure out if Derek had any kind of plan before he left. If you can figure out whether he flew or drove it’ll give us a place to start, at least. The Queen gave me a special strain of wolfsbane that works against werejaguars. I’ll get that ready.”

Peter nods, glancing over Stiles’ shoulder at his dad one more time, but he seems to get what Stiles isn’t saying, because he leaves without an argument. Once he’s gone Stiles shuts the door and turns around, glancing at his dad before he heads back toward the stairs.

“Now hang on…”

“What?” Stiles asks, frustration getting the better of him as he turns to face his father. “I’m doing what you asked, Dad. I didn’t go with Peter, I said I’d finish school away from all my friends, I’m giving up my entire _life_ because you asked.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” his dad says, jaw ticking with the same frustration Stiles feels. _Like father, like son,_ he thinks, wants to laugh, but he’s too afraid that if he lets himself he’ll start crying instead.

“And I’m telling you there’s no ‘safe’ for me, not anymore.” He thinks about arguing more, trying to make his dad see that what’s happening to him is something neither of them can control, but he knows a losing battle when he sees one. Or maybe he’s learning to let go after all, he thinks with a laugh that sounds anything but amused.

Stiles turns toward the stairs without waiting for an answer. When he gets to his room he shuts the door, then he closes his eyes and _believes_ that it won’t open again until he’s back from saving Derek from himself. Next he pictures his wolfsbane plants neatly harvested and crushed into powder, and when he opens his eyes again he sees a jar full of crushed flowers sitting on his desk that wasn’t there a few moments ago.

He sighs and picks up the jar, tucking it into his backpack alongside the essentials he’s had packed for two days now, then he closes his eyes, takes a breath, and opens them again to find himself in Derek’s loft looking at Peter.

“That’s quite a handy trick,” Peter says, his raised eyebrow the only thing giving away just how impressed he is with Stiles’ sudden appearance.

“Faster than the Jeep.”

Peter nods his acknowledgement of the fact, then he reaches for a small bag sitting on the couch before he holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he takes Peter’s arm anyway. The truth is that it’s kind of nice for _someone_ to acknowledge how useful his magic is, even if it’s just Peter. Then again, Peter’s the only one in the pack besides Stiles who really knows anything about magic, so maybe it means even more coming from him.

“Fair warning; I’ve never actually done this with somebody else along for the ride.”

“I have complete faith in you, Stiles,” Peter says with a smirk, and Stiles checks the urge to roll his eyes again. Instead he shuts them tight and _believes_ that when he opens them again, they’ll be close enough to find Derek before it’s too late.

* * *

The first thing Derek notices when he floats back toward consciousness is the stench of death. He doesn’t know where he is or how he got here, doesn’t remember much beyond driving down a dark road past the border, then pulling over to the side of the road when he blew out a tire. Without opening his eyes he does his best to assess his surroundings, starting with the smell of death layered over something more earthy, like moss on wet stone.

He can’t hear any voices, but there’s a sound of scraping, as though someone’s dragging something metal against stone, maybe. The lack of light behind his eyelids tells him he’s not out in the sun or in a brightly lit room, and without looking he’d guess he’s in a cave or a building of some kind.

His arms are stretched to either side of him on a smooth, flat surface. It’s cool against his skin, and without looking he guesses it’s more stone. He doesn’t smell any wolfsbane, but clearly whatever’s tying him down is strong enough to hold an Alpha werewolf. He thinks back to Stiles’ warning about werejaguars and magic while he tugs uselessly at his restraints, wishing that for once he’d taken a minute to hear him out instead of dismissing whatever he thinks he knows.

He keep his eyes closed and stretches his senses further, past the stench of death until he catches just a hint of an all too familiar jasmine perfume. It’s so faint he thinks Kate must have stopped wearing it when her supernatural senses kicked in, but she’s worn it so long that it’s become part of her base scent, and it hasn’t faded all the way yet.

He’s not surprised that Kate’s the one who took him. All he remembers is driving down a dark, deserted road that skirted the jungle, following a tourist route that would eventually lead to one of the more popular Mayan temples in this part of Mexico. He knew better than to think Kate would be in a tourist trap, but it was a place to start, and without Stiles’ information he didn’t have a lot to go on. But there were no tourists around at that hour, so when his tire blew and the Camaro started to slide off the road, there was no one around to witness what happened next.

Derek doesn’t remember what came next, which tells him he was knocked out somehow before he even got out of the car. That’s not surprising either, because Kate may be ready to embrace her new supernatural side, but she still has all the skills of a hunter.

The sound of footsteps on stone draws his attention back to his current situation, but he doesn’t open his eyes as someone stops next to whatever he’s lying on. The scent of jasmine is a little stronger now, and Derek doesn’t have to look to know it’s Kate standing next to him.

“Now, now, sweetie, there’s no hiding from me anymore,” that voice says, smooth and husky and sending a chill straight down his spine. “Ever since I got my little upgrade courtesy of your uncle, I can tell when you’re awake. I can hear your breathing change.” She whispers the last few words in a sing-song, voice too close to his ear and it’s all he can do not to flinch away from her hot breath on his skin.

He opens his eyes to glare at her, but instead of the deceptively beautiful face he knows so well, she’s shifted into something as monstrous as her soul. Her skin is a mottled grey blue, with the black spots of a jaguar around her forehead and down her neck. Her fangs are sharp like a werewolf’s, and her claws are long and lethal-looking when she drags them across his bare chest.

“Miss me, lover?”

“You call this an upgrade?” is all he says in answer, letting his disgust show in his expression.

“Please, this from the guy who loses his eyebrows every time he shifts.” She tilts her head to the side as though she’s flirting, and when she smirks it distorts her shifted features strangely. “Where do they go? I’ve always wondered.”

The question makes Derek snarl and struggle against the bindings holding him down, not because he’s particularly sensitive about his facial hair, but because Stiles has asked him that same question in the same, teasing way. Only with Stiles it was always friendly ribbing, just another way for him to try to get a reaction – any reaction – out of Derek. With Kate it’s just another attempt to shame him, and hearing the same words Stiles has said to him coming out of her mouth makes him want to tear her throat out even more.

“I was sorry I didn’t kill you myself the first time. I’m glad I’ll get another chance to do it right.”

Kate lets out a hiss that reminds him of Jackson when he was still a Kanima, her claws breaking skin when they dig into his chest this time. “Oh, but there’s no one here to come to your rescue this time, is there? Are you still hanging around with a bunch of high school kids?”

He tries not to give anything away with his expression, but he knows he’s failed when Kate smirks again. “That’s right, Gerard told me all about your little pack. I heard he especially enjoyed the time he spent with that human kid, the Sheriff’s son, was he? Daddy was surprised to hear he was still alive, but that just means we can have some more fun with him, doesn’t it?”

Derek doesn’t bother holding back a growl this time. Now that he knows what Stiles suffered at Gerard’s hands, it will always feel like a failure, another way that Derek’s let a member of his pack down. Hearing Kate brag about it as though she’s good enough to breathe the same air as Stiles makes Derek’s growl grow louder in his chest, the chains binding him rattling with a new ferocity as he tries to get close enough to sink his teeth into her neck.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Der? Is he a...special project?” Her grin gets wider and his stomach turns at the memory of how much he used to love it when she smiled at him that way. “Did I turn you off girls for good?”

“He’s pack,” Derek growls through his fangs. “Something you’ll never understand.”

Just for a second Kate’s eyes narrow, glowing an unearthly green that makes Derek think of reptiles instead of the jaguar Kate’s supposed to be. Then she smiles again, sharper than ever, and gestures behind her. “Well I don’t see your little pack here to help you now. I’ve got a couple friends who are just _dying_ to meet you, though.”

Instantly Derek’s mind goes to Gerard. It makes sense; the whole point of getting Derek to bite him was to cure his cancer, and Derek has no illusions about the fact that if Scott hadn’t double-crossed him, Gerard would have tried to kill Derek for his Alpha powers. He wouldn’t be surprised to hear that this whole thing was just a set-up to lure him away from his pack where it would be easy to kill him and take his Alpha power once and for all. He wonders what it means for his pack, if they’d be compelled to submit to Gerard or if he’d just go back to Beacon Hills and kill them all, one by one.

Before he has time to feel guilty for running headlong into another mess without thinking it through, Kate’s talking again. Derek doesn’t want to hear anything she has to say, but he knows he has to listen if he’s going to find a way out of this. She may be supernatural now, and she might even have some magic, but that doesn’t mean she’s invincible.

“I have to say, I was a little surprised when you just handed yourself to me on a silver platter. I made sure the news got to your sister about a Hale being back in Beacon Hills, but I didn’t expect you to come running before she did. But here’s the thing. I do know how your little pack works. You mutts all run together, don’t you? Which means where one goes, the others follow eventually.”

He works hard not to show any kind of emotion on his face, but when she smiles at him he’s not sure how successful he is. He doesn’t know enough about werejaguars, about how strong their senses are or what kind of magic they can do. He doesn’t care that much what Kate does to him, but she’s right that his pack will probably come looking for him eventually. Stiles will come looking, even if he leaves the rest of the pack at home, and Derek has no idea if he’s prepared to take on a werejaguar and whoever she’s got helping her.

“Jaguars don’t travel in packs, of course. We prefer to hunt alone, eliminate the competition. I suppose that’s why I became this instead of turning into a mutt like you. Luckily Gerard knew enough to make sure I got to jaguar territory before the change really set in. Once I healed completely, I was drawn to this place. Like it was just waiting for me,” she says, her voice almost reverent as she looks around at the dimly lit room. “And when I got here, I found these guys just waiting here for me.”

Kate glances over her shoulder as the strange scraping noise starts up again, then the stench of death grows stronger and suddenly there are two figures standing at the end of the table he’s strapped to. From the width of their shoulders he guesses they’re men, but he can’t see any part of their skin. They’re covered from head to toe in what looks like bones, faces hidden by matching skulls.

“Why they were waiting for me, I don’t know, but here they were. There’s no human left in them at all, of course. All that’s left is animal instinct, and they’ll tear apart anything they come across, human or werewolf. So I don’t think your little pack has much of a chance.”

Her eyes are glowing electric green again, and when she flashes them at her strange undead soldiers they shift restlessly, bone rubbing against bone and making that terrible scraping noise.

“Of course, these guys came ready-made. But there's magic in this place,” Kate says, looking down at him again. She reaches out a hand to stroke along his beard and he flinches away from her, but instead of getting angry she just smiles and leans close to whisper again. “Magic that lets me make more of them. And since I was _your_ first, it seems only fitting that you should be my first too.”

As she says it she reaches for something further down the table, and when she lifts it up Derek sees that it’s a skull just like the ones her soldiers are wearing. It takes a second for him to figure out what she’s saying, but when she starts to lower the skull over his face, he picks up his efforts to get free, straining against his bindings and twisting his neck as far away from her as he can.

“Good to see you still have plenty of fight in you,” Kate says, smiling the way one might smile at a toddler throwing a fit. “I can’t wait to watch you use it to tear apart that pack of yours when they get here.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different in that the entire thing is from Stiles' POV and we leave poor Derek hanging for now. It's his own fault you know.

Even though he’s magicked himself from place to place enough times to be used to it by now, Stiles is still a little surprised when he manages to get both Peter and himself to an entire other country without screwing it up. At least he’s pretty sure they’re actually in Mexico. He’s never been there before, hasn’t been to any actual jungles either, at least not ones that don’t involve sweaty, scantily clad men ignoring him while they buy drinks for his best friend.

He’d take getting blanked at a gay bar over what he’s doing right now, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice if they want to get Derek back in one piece.

Still, Stiles knows enough about pack politics to hold his tongue when Peter insists they go to Cora’s pack first before they try to find Derek. It doesn’t sit right with him, letting Derek stay in Kate’s clutches for even a second longer than necessary. But he’s pretty new to this magic thing, and he doesn’t know how much backup Kate’s got, so if they can get any help from the Garcia Pack, it’s worth taking.

Which is how he finds himself following Peter up the long brick walkway to what looks like a Spanish-style mansion. There’s an archway leading into an interior courtyard, palm trees lining either side of the walk, and Stiles can hear water running in what he assumes is a fountain of some kind inside the courtyard.

It would have been simple enough to zap them into the Garcia Pack’s living room, but Stiles knows better. He knows exactly how touchy werewolves are about their territory, so no matter how anxious he is not to waste any time, he’s going to do this the right way. Which means magicking them into the country just beyond the pack’s border, then walking in the rest of the way. He lets Peter walk in front of him, and when they finally reach the front door of the pack house, he lets Peter be the one to knock.

The door swings open before he’s even made contact, of course, because they’re werewolves, and Peter called ahead so they’re expected. He’s expecting a broody beta with more eyebrows than manners, maybe, who will grunt at them and lead them to their Alpha so he can sniff out any danger and try to intimidate them. But maybe he’s gotten too used to the way Derek runs his pack, because the person who opens the door is an older man with kind eyes in spite of his grave expression.

“Señor Hale, I am Eduardo Garcia,” the Alpha says, one hand on Peter’s bicep and the other gripping Peter’s hand. “I am sorry we are meeting under these circumstances.”

“Thank you, Alpha Garcia,” Peter says with the most sincere smile Stiles has ever seen on him. He’s not sure if it’s just diplomacy or the fact that Peter knows he’s only a few minutes from getting another member of his family back, but either way it’s a good look for him.

“Please, call me Eduardo.”

“Eduardo,” Peter repeats. “This is the person I told you about on the phone.”

“The Spark,” Eduardo says with a nod and an assessing look at Stiles. “It is an honor to have you in our home, Spark Stilinski. You are most welcome.”

Stiles opens his mouth to answer, though he’s not really sure what to say to a greeting like that, especially when no one’s ever been honored by his presence before, but he doesn’t manage to work out what to say before he’s interrupted by the sound of running footsteps.

“Uncle Peter?”

“Cora,” Peter breathes, blue eyes shining and a look on his face like maybe he didn’t really believe Cora was actually alive until he laid eyes on her. A second later she’s flinging herself at him, and Peter’s arms wrap around her waist as he tucks his face into her neck and takes a big sniff.

Stiles bites back a sarcastic remark about scenting and dogs and edges out of the way of the family reunion. He barely gets two steps before Cora’s pulling away from Peter to stare at him, and for a second he feels like prey. Then she’s blinking and letting go of Peter, eyes wide before she throws herself at Stiles.

“Stiles! I didn’t know...after everything that happened, I wasn’t sure you’d still be pack.”

“Hey, Cora,” Stiles says, returning the hug and hoping he doesn’t sound as confused as he is. Because sure, they were only a year apart in school, but he hasn’t seen her since junior high, and they weren’t exactly friends back then. In fact, he only remembers talking to her a few times as a kid, before his mom died and his whole life went to hell for a while.

He wasn’t entirely honest when he told Peter he didn’t remember Talia courting him for the Hale Pack, though of course he had no idea at the time that was what was happening. In his defense, he was only seven, and as far as he knew the Hales were just a nice family with a big house out in the woods who threw cool parties in their backyard and had tons of kids running around. Stiles remembers the first time his family was invited to one of their parties, remembers how excited he was to go and play with Cora and maybe her cousins. He remembers seeing Derek for the first time, thinking how cool and grown-up he looked at twelve, with his friends from the basketball team around him.

As though she can read his mind Cora frowns, pulling away from Stiles without actually letting go of him so she can look at Peter. “Are you the Alpha?”

“That would be Derek, I’m afraid,” Peter says, though from the way the lines around his eyes go a little tight, Stiles can tell he hasn’t figured out yet how to tell Cora about everything that’s gone down in Beacon Hills since the fire.

“So where is he? Did he send you two to get me? Are you our emissary?” she asks, looking back at Stiles as though it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to assume.

“Let us talk inside,” Alpha Garcia interrupts, placing a gentle hand on Cora’s shoulder to guide her back into the house. “My pack has prepared refreshments after your long journey.”

“It wasn’t nearly as long as you’d think,” Peter says, smirking over his shoulder at Stiles as he wraps an arm around Cora’s waist and lets her lean against him while they walk. Stiles rolls his eyes, but he smiles at the picture they make as he follows the wolves. 

As grand as the house looks from the outside with its arches and courtyard and wrought iron gate, the inside is warm and welcoming and homey. There’s red tile under their feet, stucco walls the color of rich cream, and every piece of furniture is either made of dark wood that looks as though it’s been standing in the same place for a lifetime, or overstuffed to the point that Stiles wants to sink into it and never climb back out. Sounds of conversation punctuated liberally with laughter float down the hall, and they follow the voices to the biggest dining room table Stiles has ever seen.

Seated around it are what Stiles assumes is most of the Garcia Pack, and as far as he can tell there’s not a brooding eyebrow among them. In fact they’re met with smiles and touches, the entire pack rising to greet him with hands on his shoulders and grasping his own, sparkling eyes and warm expressions that Stiles never would have expected from a strange pack.

“It is an honor to meet you, Spark Stilinski,” says a tiny blonde woman who’s probably right around Derek’s age.

“Stiles,” he says for what feels like the hundredth time in the last five minutes, and she smiles even brighter and clings to his hand. It’s a little weird, the way they’re acting like he’s some kind of celebrity, especially when he hasn’t really done anything with his magic so far, other than talking to dead people. Sure, he got Peter and himself to Mexico, but they could have taken a plane and it would only have cost them a few hours.

“May I present our emissary in training, Gabriela Vasquez,” Alpha Garcia says, appearing next to Stiles to clap a strong hand on his shoulder.

“I am merely a druid,” Gabriela says, almost like she’s apologizing. “I’ve never met an actual Spark before,” she adds, and yeah, it’s definitely weird.

“Me either,” Stiles answers, smiling a little self-consciously when most of the room laughs at what was definitely not one of his stronger jokes. But he doesn’t really get what the big deal is, why they’re acting like he’s something special just because he can do a little magic.

“Of course it is very unusual to meet an unbonded Spark.” Alpha Garcia again, and the look he gives Stiles this time feels almost calculating.

“Stiles is aligned with the Hale Pack,” Peter pipes up from across the room where Stiles thought he was too caught up in Cora to pay any attention to the rest of the conversations happening around him.

Alpha Garcia nods, and for a second he and Peter stare each other down in a way Stiles might almost call a challenge. Then the moment passes and their host breaks the staring contest to smile and clap his hands together.

“Please, sit. You must refresh yourselves, and we must discuss a strategy before we move forward to recover your Alpha.”

“Recover…?” Cora repeats with a look at first her Alpha, then Peter. “Where is he?”

“How much do you know about what happened to our family?” Peter asks, and Stiles can’t blame him for the reluctance in his voice. He doesn’t think any of them will ever really be over what Peter was before they killed him, but watching him now, faced with the prospect of having to confess all those sins to yet another family member who doesn’t hate him for them yet, Stiles feels sympathy for him for what he thinks is the first time.

“I know it was hunters,” Cora answers, her eyes flashing at the memory. “I saw them before I ran away. Most of the rumors we’ve heard say it was Argents.”

“One Argent in particular,” Peter says. “Kate. I tore her throat out several months ago, but apparently she didn’t die. She’s a _Nagual_ , hiding here in Mexico. She spread the rumors about a Hale Alpha returning in order to draw you out.”

“Right. Eduardo said that’s why we were waiting for you to come for me. But I don’t understand; if she’s turned, she won’t have other hunters working with her anymore. How dangerous can she be?”

“The problem with werejaguars is that they have magic of their own,” Stiles says. “So she might not have a bunch of hunters backing her up, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be easy to take out. Plus she’s seriously obsessed with making Derek’s life miserable, and he decided not to wait for backup before he went ahead and handed himself over to her, basically.”

“You mean Kate Argent has Derek? Right now?”

Stiles shrugs, because he can’t _prove_ it, but thanks to his magic, he knows it’s true.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Cora asks, already halfway out of her chair like she’s going to run off and save Derek single-handedly. _Must run in the family_ , Stiles thinks, and bites back a smirk.

“Well, like I said, magic,” he says as Peter reaches out and coaxes Cora back into her chair. “I don’t know much about how a werejaguar’s magic works, so we’re not sure what we’re walking into. We were hoping maybe you’d know a little more,” he adds, turning to look at Alpha Garcia.

“There are rumors,” Eduardo answers, then he nods toward the emissary Stiles met earlier. “Our last emissary was killed last year in a territory dispute, but Emissary Vasquez has access to his library. When Peter explained the situation to me, I had her do what research she could.”

Gabriela nods, eyes wide and earnest and making her look a little bit like a student hoping to impress her favorite teacher. “There is a myth in Mayan culture that tells of the _Nagual_ and their magic. Whether their magic is light or dark depends on the individual.”

“I think we’re pretty safe in assuming Kate’s magic is dark,” Stiles says. He doesn’t tell them he can _feel_ how dark her magic is, even from a distance, thanks to his link with Derek. It’s how he’s sure Derek is still alive, as well, that he hasn’t been killed by Kate or Gerard for the Alpha power he’s sure they both covet. Until they got to Mexico and Stiles felt the foreign magic in the air for the first time he never even thought to look for a connection with Derek or any of the other pack members; he’s never noticed the magic around Beacon Hills, after all, probably because he grew up surrounded by it and soaking it up without realizing.

But feeling foreign magic for the first time makes him aware of just how much magic there is flowing through him, and when he finds a thread inside of himself and pulls, he knows somehow that it’s a tether connecting him to his Alpha. _The Alpha of a pack that doesn’t want me_ , Stiles thinks bitterly, looking around at the Garcia Pack and the curious but welcoming glances they keep throwing his way.

He thinks this must be how a real pack interacts, that this must be what the Hales were like before Kate destroyed them. He wonders if this is what Derek’s been trying to rebuild with a bunch of misfit kids who don’t know the first thing about how to be a family, and he swallows against the surge of sadness that wells up in his chest. Because sure, Derek’s an asshole and he’s never had any use for Stiles, but if this is what he lost, he has a right to be bitter.

Still, he’s never going to get anywhere with his current pack unless he starts letting them in, and running off to try to take on Kate by himself is pretty much the opposite of letting anyone in. 

“There is a temple deep in the jungle,” Gabriela continues, only to be interrupted by one of Eduardo’s betas, a guy in his thirties, maybe, with dark eyes and a chiseled jaw who’d held onto Stiles’ hand just a little too long while they were being introduced for it to be just a friendly gesture.

“A legend only. No one has ever seen it.”

Gabriela tips her head to acknowledge what Stiles assumes is a commonly held belief, but she keeps her eyes on Stiles and continues her story. “It is said to be a site of great power for the _Nagual_ , inaccessible to the living. It is a place of the dead.”

_Of course it is,_ Stiles thinks to himself, but all he says is, “I can find it.”

“You misunderstand,” Gabriela says with an apologetic smile. “The living cannot see such a place.”

“No, I get what you’re saying,” Stiles assures her. “But I’ve kind of got an in with the dead. I’m telling you, I can find it.”

If this were a movie the whole table would go quiet, but the Garcia Pack has way too many young kids for that to happen, so there’s still plenty of chatter in the room. It’s muted, though, as the people seated nearest the Alpha and his guests go quiet, waiting while Eduardo looks Stiles over again before he leans forward.

“How is it, my young friend, that you knew to look for Cora after all these years?”

The thing is, they haven’t actually talked about whether Stiles is supposed to tell people what _kind_ of Spark he is. The Garcia Pack knows he’s a Spark, obviously, but he hasn’t even had time to work out what being a Spirit Walker means in the grand scheme of the supernatural community, let alone talk to Peter about it. He doesn’t know if it’s dangerous to tell people what he is, if it somehow makes him more or less desirable as an ally.

But they need the Garcia Pack’s help, and he wants to stay on good terms with the wolves who took in and sheltered Cora for so long, so instead of looking to Peter for direction, Stiles holds Eduardo’s gaze and says, “I talked to her mom.”

This time the gasp is audible, and Stiles would laugh if he wasn’t so worried that he’s just blown whatever alliance they’ve been building over the last hour. It feels like time slows to a crawl while he waits for someone to break the silence, but he’s sure it hasn’t been more than a few seconds before he hears a soft, “Mom?” from across the table at the same moment that Eduardo utters a soft “ _Dios mío_ ” under his breath.

“A Spirit Walker,” Gabriela says, her voice almost reverent, and yeah, that’s still weird.

He glances across the table at Peter, but he’s bent close to Cora, whispering rapidly while she blinks against the sudden glossiness in her eyes. Instantly Stiles feels terrible, because he knows what it’s like to lose your mother, and if he got Cora’s hopes up, even for a second, he’ll never forgive himself. It’s bad enough that Derek’s already mad at him for talking to Talia, he doesn’t want to give Cora a reason to resent him too.

Before he can work himself into a panic she looks up, and when their eyes meet she gives him a watery smile. “You’re telling me everything, Stilinski,” she says.

“Just as soon as we find your idiot brother,” he promises, his smile growing a little when she laughs.

“You are extraordinary indeed, Spark Stilinski,” Eduardo says, drawing Stiles’ attention back to him. The Alpha’s mate and a few of his betas are all looking at him with the same rapt expression, and Stiles knows that Spirit Walkers are pretty rare, but all this attention feels a little excessive. Sure, he can do magic, and it’s pretty cool that he can apparate like he’s a character in a Harry Potter novel, but he doesn’t feel all that different than he did before he died.

People are looking at him like he’s different, though – like he’s something important – and he’s not sure he’s ever going to get used to that. “Thanks, but I’m nobody special.”

“We shall have to agree to disagree, my young friend,” Eduardo answers with an indulgent grin that makes Stiles’ cheeks heat up. “Regardless, you are always welcome among the Garcia Pack. Now, let us make a plan to recover young Cora’s brother and make sure the huntress pays for her crimes.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate Argent and violence warnings for this chapter. The violence is pretty tame compared to canon, but just in case.

It takes an hour of hashing things out over dinner, then another hour in the Garcia Pack’s war room, looking over maps of the Yucatan and dusty old texts filled with Mayan legends, before they’ve got a more or less solid plan. Peter attempts to talk Cora into staying behind in the safety of pack territory, but she snarls at him until he relents. In the end they decide to take both Hales along with Eduardo and Stiles, plus another five Garcia betas in a second car.

Stiles considers attempting to zap them all to the place where he can feel the pull of Derek’s bond and Kate’s magic, but he doesn’t know if using a bunch of magic when he’s away from the land he’s tied to will exhaust him, and he wants to keep up his strength for when they find Kate. Still, it’s frustrating to sit in the car, watching the jungle roll by the window while Peter and Cora whisper together in the back seat, and Eduardo drives way too fast down dirt roads.

They know where they’re going thanks to Stiles’ directions, a fact not a single one of them questions. It weirds Stiles out a little to have virtual strangers believing so much in his magic when the people closest to him have so far treated it as kind of a joke. Still, it’s kind of nice, and anyway it’s not as though they have a choice if they want to find Derek.

Aside from finding the temple they don’t really have a plan, though, mainly because they have no idea what they’re walking into. Kate could have no backup, or she could have a hundred lackeys. She could have built a little clan of werejaguars, even though it would go against their nature. But the thing Stiles is really afraid of is that they’re going to walk into the temple and find themselves face to face with Gerard.

They drive until they run out of road, until the jungle starts to close in around them. After that they get out and walk, Stiles reaching out with his magic to make sure they’re not ambushed before they even make it to the temple. There are no signs of life, no hunters standing guard with wolfsbane-loaded sniper rifles and crossbows, and no other supernaturals that Stiles can sense as they trudge through thick green undergrowth.

Monkeys chatter in the trees above them, and brightly colored birds fly from branch to branch along their path. Stiles knows that at any other time he’d really enjoy this, that he’s seeing things he might not ever get the chance to see again. But he can’t appreciate it, not when he can feel the pull of dark magic a little more strongly with every step he takes.

It’s thick in the air, sticking to his tongue and the insides of his nostrils and making his nose twitch with the urge to sneeze. He can feel how old it is, cloying and dark and every part of him wants to turn and run in the other direction as fast as possible. But he can’t, because Derek’s in there somewhere, at the center of all that rotten magic, and who knows what Kate’s doing to him.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been walking when the trees and vines they’ve been fighting their way through start to thin, but a few moments later they’re stepping into a clearing in the heart of the jungle, a pyramid-shaped stone temple rising in front of them. Stiles stops at the edge of the clearing, reaching out with his magic to try to find any surprises, supernatural or human, but there seems to be nothing lying in wait outside the temple.

“Why have we stopped?” one of the Garcia betas asks, and Stiles glances over to see them all looking around the clearing as though they’re trying to figure out the answer to a puzzle.

“You don’t see it?” Stiles says, then he remembers what Gabriela said about the temple only being visible to the dead. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then he _believes_ that the temple is visible to everyone in the group.

“ _¡Por Dios!_ ,” someone shouts behind him, which Stiles assumes means his magic worked.

He honestly wasn’t sure it would, considering the temple itself is cloaked in so much magic already, but it’s pretty cool that he managed to pull it off. It makes him feel like less of a fraud, like maybe, in spite of what Derek and the rest of the pack thinks, he really is something special. Something useful, anyway, more than the spaz Jackson thinks he is or the annoyance Derek sees him as.

“This place smells like death,” Peter murmurs as they step closer to the temple, skirting the steps that would take them to the main entrance.

“I’m going to try to block our scents, but I’m not sure how well it will work against Kate’s magic, so keep your eyes open,” Stiles says as he leads the way up the wide stone staircase and into the temple.

The other wolves nod and takes a few steps inside, then they stop and cock their heads as though they’re listening to something. When Stiles glances over at Peter he’s gone pale, eyes wide and fearful. Stiles opens his mouth to ask what he hears, but before he gets the words out he hears it too: a strange, clicking sound, like metal hitting stone, maybe.

“Oh no,” Peter whispers, under his breath like maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“What? Do you know what that is?”

“If it’s what I think it is, I’ve heard it once before. I’d hoped never to hear it again.”

If anyone had told Stiles before his stay with the Fae that Peter Hale could sound that spooked about anything, he would have laughed in their face. Now that he’s seen it, though, it sends a chill down his spine, and he wishes they could just turn around and go home. But Derek’s in here somewhere, Stiles can sense him even more now that he’s inside the temple, and if they don’t save him no one else will.

“What is it?” Stiles asks again, and Peter blinks and looks at him as though he’d forgotten Stiles was there.

“Berserkers.”

“Berserkers?” Stiles repeats, frowning and glancing in the direction the sound is coming from. “Like the Vikings who channeled bear spirits in battle?”

“This version takes it a bit further,” Eduardo interjects in a voice that tells Stiles he’s trying to sound calm when he’s anything but. “They were once men, but they have been outfitted in armor made from the bones and skull of a bear. The magic takes away the mind of the man and leaves only the spirit of the beast. A beast with super strength and speed.”

“Sounds like something Kate would be into,” Stiles says with a sigh. “Okay. Any idea how to kill them?”

“We don’t.” Peter looks over at him, meeting his skeptical expression with a grave frown. “I’m serious. They’re truly invulnerable.”

“Bullshit. Everybody’s got a weakness,” Stiles says. He wishes he had a few hours and a laptop to narrow down what the Berserkers’ weakness is likely to be, but there’s not much he can do about it now except keep moving forward and trust his magic to help him figure it out.

They’re far enough into the temple to lose all the natural light filtering in from the jungle when Stiles gets his first look at them. There are two, both of them covered in bones and wearing bear skulls over their faces. On the fingers of one hand they each have long claws, and Stiles can see now that the strange clicking noise is coming from their bone armor scraping against itself.

He can feel Peter practically vibrating with nervous energy behind him, but Stiles doesn’t have time to worry about him now. He glances over his shoulder just long enough to make sure Peter’s listening before he turns back to the Berserkers. “Take Cora and find Derek. I’ll deal with this.”

“Are you insane? You can’t…”

“ _Go_ ,” Stiles says again, this time through clenched teeth. He waits until Peter pulls Cora in the opposite direction before he reaches out with his magic, focusing on finding the vulnerability that will let him eliminate Kate’s footsoldiers.

He’s never tried to look at someone’s aura before, but he gets the feeling that’s what his magic is showing him now. There’s a glow around the Berserkers that wasn’t there a minute ago, anyway, and it’s brightest around the skulls covering their faces. Stiles assumes that means he should aim for a headshot, so he waits until the closest one comes within attack range and throws a blast of magic at its face.

The unmistakable sound of bone creaking bounces off the temple walls, and Stiles watches as the Berserker stumbles backwards. It’s stunned, but not defeated, and he gears up for another blast of magic, but this time the thing manages to twist out of the way and the blast hits it in the chest instead of the face. In the same moment the second one charges him and he reacts without thinking, using his magic to throw the thing back against the temple wall. It barely slows the Berserker down, but at least it puts a little distance between them. It’s enough for Stiles to attack the first Berserker again, catching it square in the center of its skull mask this time and with a burst of light the thing explodes.

Stiles blinks and looks down at the pile of dust where a Berserker used to be. It seems like it should have been harder to take down, given how scared the others seemed to be. Then again, Peter probably didn’t have magic to show him what to do the last time he faced a Berserker, so maybe it was just a matter of having the right tools.

He doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, though, because the second Berserker is charging again. One of the Garcia betas lets out a roar and charges the thing, but as soon as he makes contact with the Berserker he’s picked up and tossed down the narrow hallway as though he’s a rag doll. The distinctive sound of bone snapping makes him wince, but he doesn’t have time to worry about it because another one of the betas is charging, and Stiles can’t kill the Berserker if the Garcia betas keep getting in his way.

The second beta is tossed aside just as easily as the first, landing in an oddly angled heap next to her packmate. Stiles swallows against the urge to wretch and draws his magic to the surface again, but before he can take aim a new roar draws him up short. It’s nothing like the roars of the Garcia betas, or even Derek’s howl. This sounds like a lion or some other big cat screaming, which means it must have something to do with Kate.

At the sound the Berserker seems to change direction in midair, pushing off the stone with one foot and taking off deeper into the temple away from them. He wonders if Kate felt her other Berserker die – cease to be? turn to dust? can you die if you’re already dead? – and called the other one back to her in order to minimize the damage to her little zombie army. He can’t feel any more of them in the temple, so if she only had the two then she’d want to keep the only one that’s left close.

He’d been expecting to have to fight their way through an army of loyal Argent hunters, maybe, or at least whatever other werejaguars Kate had found to recruit. But now that Stiles thinks about it, even the most vile hunters would refuse to work with Kate and Gerard now that they’ve betrayed the cause, and jaguars don’t live in packs the way wolves do. They’re solitary hunters, so if Kate’s listening to her instincts, she might actually be on her own.

It seems like a foolish plan until he remembers that she doesn’t know about him. As far as she knows Derek’s pack is made up of a handful of teenage bitten wolves, plus Derek and Peter. Even if Gerard told her everything that happened after Peter turned her, he didn’t know that they’d gotten Allison back on their side, or what happened to Stiles as a result of Gerard’s torture.

“We need to follow it,” he says to the werewolves, but he waits until they’ve gathered their injured and made sure they’re already healing before he moves further into the temple.

* * *

Derek doesn’t lose his mind right away. Kate gets the mask on him and murmurs whatever spell she’s doing, and for a few moments nothing happens. It’s enough to give Derek hope that she messed it up somehow, and if he can pretend long enough maybe he can get out of this before any of his pack shows up to try to take her on. 

It doesn’t take long for the hope to fade, though, not when he can feel the magic starting to spread through his body. At first it’s an itch, just a vague crawling sensation under his skin as it travels down his neck and into his shoulders. Before long the crawling turns to burning, and by the time the magic has spread all the way to his toes he’s roaring and arching up against his restraints.

His vision goes black and all he can think is that he has to get out of here, has to stop whatever’s happening before it goes too far. He fights to focus on what’s happening to him, trying to remember what it is he’s trying so hard to stop, but the thoughts slip through his mind like water through fingers, and before long all he knows is the red rage surging through him as he breaks his chains and leaps from the table.

There’s a woman standing at the end of the table, watching him with a pleased smile. _Master_ , he thinks, shakes his head a little because the word feels wrong somehow, but when he tries to reach for the reason why it slips from his grasp as well.

Suddenly her head snaps up, nostrils flaring before she turns to flash her eyes at the two who are like him. “They’re here. Find them.”

Derek moves to follow, but a low snarl and a hand on the armor covering his chest stop him. “Not you, lover. We’re saving the best for last.”

He cocks his head to the side as he tries to parse the words, but he stands down, taking his place at her side and listening for the sounds of the others seeking out and destroying the trespassers. Rage races through his veins and he shifts restlessly, eager to tear something – anything – apart. The emotion is overwhelming, the need to destroy surging up in him until he’s almost panting with it.

“Hold on, you’ll get your chance,” the woman says, voice familiar in a way that makes Derek’s jaw clench. He tries to remember who she is, and when that doesn’t work he tries to remember who _he_ is. But the answers won’t come, and when the rage washes over him again he lets it carry those thoughts away until he’s nothing but unfocused anger.

Somewhere there’s a howl, sounds of a fight echoing off the stone walls surrounding them. Derek’s muscles tense with the urge to sprint toward the action, but he stays where he’s told and watches as the woman’s eyes flash an eerie green, then she snarls and lets out a roar.

The sound tugs at the center of his chest, and he knows if he wasn’t already standing beside her, he’d be running toward the call. That feels wrong too, the thought of running _toward_ this woman, but at the same time he knows he has to obey.

One of the others runs toward them a few moments later, but there’s no sign of the second one Kate sent out to intercept their visitors. She lets out a snarl when only one arrives, claws digging into her palms and drawing blood.

“How?” she snarls, her gaze still trained on the passageway that leads to the rest of the temple. “There’s no way a werewolf could have killed one of my Berserkers. No way.”

“Well, you’re right about that,” a new voice says, and something in the back of Derek’s mind tells him he’s heard it before. “I’m not a werewolf.”

“ _You_. My father should have made sure you stayed dead.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around,” the new voice answers, then he glances over his shoulder toward the passageway that leads to the outer rooms of the temple. “The place is crawling with zombies. But don’t worry, I already took care of one of them for you.”

A frustrated roar echoes off the walls, making Derek's ears ring, and when he hears the snarled 'attack' three things happen at once.

His body lurches forward without his permission, obeying the command and charging the person standing in front of his master. At the same time several others rush into the room, growling and ready to fight. They're too late to stop him from charging, but something stops him anyway, pushing him backwards and making him stumble over nothing.

Derek doesn't know what's happening, doesn't know who or what stopped him or who he's fighting. He doesn't even know his own name; all he knows is the urge to fight and kill, the rage rushing through his veins and urging him forward to follow his master's orders.

Something collides with him from the right and he carelessly tosses it aside as though it's nothing more than a doll. He hears the sound of crunching bone but he doesn't stop to look, just keeps moving forward toward his goal. He tosses aside another body, and another, until finally he's standing in front of a boy with wild eyes who smells like magic and something so achingly familiar that Derek stops for a second.

He doesn't know who these people are or why they're fighting. He doesn't think he should care, but he _knows_ this boy, he's sure of it, only he can't remember how or why.

The sounds of battle surround them, growls and shouts and sharp, cut off cries of pain that fade into nothing while he stands and looks at the magic boy in front of him. He's almost glowing with it, and some tiny, still human part of Derek's brain whispers that it would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful.

"What are you waiting for? Kill him!" His master snarls from across the room, and just like that the rage washes back over him. He's moving forward again when he's hit by a second wall of magic, but this one doesn't push him back. Instead it reaches inside him, and suddenly there are memories flashing through his mind, images of a boy in the woods, of a swimming pool and a hissing lizard monster.

There are flashes of other people too, a laughing woman with kind eyes and a girl with dark hair and a smirk so familiar it makes Derek's heart ache. He sees a big white house in the woods and a little boy crying on the edge of a basketball court while another woman holds him. That memory jolts something deep inside him, and there's a name just on the tip of his tongue, struggling to make itself known.

"Come on, big guy," the magic boy coaxes, and the sound of his voice alone is enough to make Derek stumble this time. "Come back to me."

_Stiles,_ his mind whispers, and he doesn’t know what it means, but it’s the first thing that’s felt right since this started.


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles races down the dark temple passageways after the Berserker, following the trail of magic he can feel pulling him toward Kate. He can tell Derek’s with her, but something feels...off about him. The bond tying them together has felt muted since Stiles stepped into the temple, and he doesn’t know what that means, but he knows he needs to get to Derek before it gets any weaker.

He expects to find Derek chained to a wall with electricity keeping him weak the same way he’d found Erica and Boyd in the Argents’ basement that night months ago. Instead he finds Kate shifted into a grotesque parody of a jaguar, a Berserker on either side of her and no sign of Derek anywhere.

“ _You_ ,” Kate snarls as soon as she sees him. “My father should have made sure you stayed dead.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around,” Stiles says with a smirk he hopes makes him look more confident than he feels. “The place is crawling with zombies. But don’t worry, I already took care of one of them for you.”

He’s not telling her anything her magic hasn’t already let her know, but it’s worth it to see the blind rage flash in her weirdly radioactive eyes before she roars at him. He expects her to fly at him, claws and fangs out, but instead it’s one of her Berserkers that rushes forward. Stiles shoves it back with his magic automatically, watching it stumble before it rights itself and starts moving again.

There’s something almost familiar about the shape of the Berserker, but before Stiles can put his finger on what it is Cora’s there, rushing it from the side and getting tossed into a hard stone wall for her efforts. Stiles hears a growl he knows belongs to Peter, then one of the Garcia betas is rushing the Berserker, only to get tossed aside the same way Cora was.

Stiles wants to keep his focus on Kate, to make sure she doesn’t get away in the confusion from all the fighting, but the Berserker’s still fighting to get to him and he knows he can’t let his guard down. Plus there’s the nagging feeling that he should recognize the creature coming at him, so he reaches out with his magic and almost stumbles backwards when he feels Derek’s bond.

“No,” Stiles murmurs, his voice lost in the sounds of the fighting around them. “No, no, no.”

Eduardo said that the Berserkers were just killing machines, that their humanity was burned away, leaving nothing but animal instincts and supernatural strength. But Derek hasn’t been in Kate’s clutches long enough to lose himself, not when Stiles can still sense him in there somewhere.

He’s sure of it, and when the Berserker reaches him and stops, just staring through his skull mask with his head cocked a little, as though maybe he recognizes Stiles, he knows he’s right. Kate’s somewhere across the room, Peter and Cora and he thinks maybe Eduardo surrounding her, and he’s glad, because he doesn’t want Peter or Cora to see Derek like this. Doesn’t want them to have to fight their own family, especially not when he could kill them both and pile even more guilt on an already endless supply.

“Derek,” Stiles says, keeping his voice down because he knows Derek can hear him, even over the fighting. “You have to fight it.”

For a second he thinks it’s actually working, but then he hears Kate’s voice, shrill as she screeches, “What are you waiting for? Kill him!”

At the sound of her voice Derek lunges, but Stiles pushes out with his magic before he can make contact. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he knows he has to reach the part of Derek that’s still in there before Kate’s magic burns him away for good. So he gathers his magic and uses it to push memory after memory into Derek’s mind, from the first time they met to lost family members Stiles can recall to all the times they’ve been thrown together by the supernatural mess that is Beacon Hills.

"Come on, big guy," Stiles murmurs absently as he keeps feeding Derek all the memories of him and them and the Hales he can come up with. "Come back to me."

Derek stumbles, then he rights himself and shakes his head like a dog, but Stiles is focusing too hard to enjoy the obvious joke. He pushes the memory of Derek smashing his head into his steering wheel, then the memory of Stiles hovering over a dying Derek while he tries to find the courage to cut his arm off.

The noise of the fight fades away until it’s just the two of them, connected by Stiles’ magic. Derek staggers forward a few steps, as though he’s walking through mud, as though he’s caught between trying to follow Kate’s order and fighting to break her spell. _Remember who you are,_ Stiles thinks, pushing the thought so hard that Derek stumbles again, catching himself on the stone altar in the center of the room.

He shakes his head again, then he raises one arm, and Stiles has a moment to worry that he’s about to be attacked with seriously sharp claws, but instead of lashing out Derek reaches for the skull mask and pulls hard. There’s a weird flash of light and then a sharp cracking noise, and a second later Derek’s blinking at him, eyes red and fangs out.

“Oh, thank God,” Stiles says, sagging a little in relief. He doesn’t have time to enjoy the victory, though, because the fight’s still going on around them, and Kate’s still alive. Every member of the Garcia Pack who came with them is facing off against the last Berserker, and they’re all getting some hits in, but it’s not doing much besides providing enough of a distraction to keep the thing from killing any of them.

Peter and Cora are still fighting Kate, though from the looks of it they’re just trying to keep her from running. It’s obvious Derek wants to join them, but he must be weak from Kate’s magic because he’s still leaning hard against the altar and Stiles sort of wants to make him stay there until all this is over. He knows better than to say so, because Derek never listens to him, so there’s no reason to assume he’ll start now.

Instead Stiles reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little bottle of wolfsbane he brought with him and sprinting across the room to fling himself between Cora and Kate. At the sight of him she snarls, eyes wild and acid-bright, then she lunges for him. He doesn’t have time to do more than uncork the bottle and throw the wolfsbane in her face, but as soon as she breathes it in and stumbles backwards, he pushes with his magic until the poison forces its way down her throat.

Stiles watches as she chokes, then falls to her knees and grabs for her throat. It’s not enough to kill her – at least not quickly – but it will keep her from escaping or hurting any more members of the Hale Pack while Stiles deals with the final Berserker. He turns his back to Kate, trusting Peter and Cora to make sure she stays down, and dashes back across the large stone chamber to where the Garcia Pack is barely holding their own against the Berserker.

All the werewolves are injured, blood drying on their torn clothes and gashes slowly healing on their skin. He can tell by the way one of the betas’ arms is hanging that it’s been broken, and he knows he needs to eliminate the threat so they have time to set bones and take care of any serious injuries. The last thing he wants is their potential allies being permanently injured because he wasn’t fast enough, especially after the faith they’ve all placed in him when they barely know him.

“Move!” he shouts as he skids into the middle of the betas, using his magic to nudge them out of the way before he takes aim and blasts the Berserker square in his mask. Maybe it’s the fact that the Garcia Pack has been wearing it down, or maybe the Berserker just isn’t as strong without Kate and her magic to bolster it, but this one goes down on the first hit. One second it’s charging toward Stiles, and the next there’s a flash of light and then a pile of dust on the stone in front of him.

“How did you…?” Eduardo starts, but the sentence trails off as he stares at the pile of dust where the Berserker used to be.

“Their masks are their weakness.” Stiles takes a deep breath, hand over his pounding heart, then he glances around at the betas. “Everybody okay?”

“ _Si,”_ Eduardo says, still a little breathless as he looks over his pack. “Nothing that will not heal. And Argent?”

Stiles turns at the sound of Kate’s name, scanning the rest of the chamber in search of his own pack. Derek’s standing with Cora and Peter now, his hands on Cora as though he’s checking her over for injuries, or maybe just trying to convince himself she’s real. Cora’s doing the same, eyes bright with tears even as she insists that she’s fine. Peter’s standing behind them and off to the side, and at first Stiles thinks he’s still guarding Kate, but then he realizes that her body’s not where he left it.

“Peter, where’s…” But that’s as far as he gets before a snarl cuts through the post-battle stillness, and Stiles turns on his heel just in time to see Kate leap through the air, claws out and coming straight at him.

* * *

It takes Derek a few moments to remember where he is and how he got there. He blinks back into awareness to find Stiles watching him, and when their eyes meet Stiles heaves a sigh of relief and murmurs, “Oh, thank God.”

Derek wants to answer, or maybe just demand Stiles tell him what the hell’s going on, but before he can Stiles is turning away, dashing toward Peter and Kate and...Cora? Derek’s heart leaps into his throat, and he feels his knees shake as Stiles pushes his little sister out of the way and blows something in Kate’s face.

Derek watches her go down like he's watching a movie, the whole thing happening in what feels like slow motion. He doesn't know what Stiles did, just like he doesn't know how Stiles brought him back from whatever Kate did to him. All he knows is that somehow Stiles has saved the day again, and he's even managed to find Derek's sister.

Once Kate's down Derek starts moving, pushing himself off the altar and towards his family. Cora spots him first, her eyes going wide as she practically launches herself into his arms. "Derek!"

"Cora," he answers, holding her as tight as she'll let him. He ignores the fight still happening on the other side of the room, all his attention on his little sister who's not so little anymore.

"What were you thinking, going after Kate alone?" she demands as she pulls back to look at him again. Derek glances over her head at Peter, but his uncle just shrugs unrepentantly.

"I was trying to keep Stiles out of it."

"Why?" Cora asks, frowning in genuine confusion. "Isn't he your emissary?"

"He's..." Derek begins, but before he can get any further Peter interrupts to say, "Stiles is under the impression that he's not even pack."

"Of course he's pack," Derek snaps, but all it gets him is a raised eyebrow from his uncle.

"He's an unbonded Spark, Derek. Alpha Garcia has already made overtures."

"Who's Alpha Garcia?" Derek demands, glaring at Peter as though maybe this is all his fault. It wouldn’t even be close to the most underhanded thing his uncle’s done this past year, so Derek wouldn’t be surprised if he is somehow responsible.

"He's my Alpha," Cora answers, and okay, that's harder to hear than he expected. But Cora’s been part of this pack for over six years, and he can’t expect her to give that up to go back to Beacon Hills and be part of his mess of a pack. Of course that’s what he _wants_ , and he hopes she wants that too, but he’s not going to force her. Still, it’s hard to hear her refer to someone else as her Alpha, especially when that someone appears to be trying to steal Stiles from him as well.

He hears Stiles’ voice and looks up just in time to see Kate rush him. For a few terrible moments Derek thinks this is something else he’s going to regret for the rest of his life, that Stiles’ blood will be on his hands along with his entire family’s. He thinks about all the stupid arguments, all the times he told Stiles to shut up because Derek didn’t want to admit he was right about something. He thinks about Stiles climbing into the back of his father’s squad car, so brave and so stupid all in the same breath, and for some reason he thinks about a little boy crying on his family’s basketball court.

He’s moving before he even makes a conscious decision, and he knows he won’t get there in time, but he can’t just stand by and watch Stiles _die_. Not by Kate’s hand, he won’t let her take one more person from him. Someone shouts Stiles’ name and he thinks it must have been him, but Stiles doesn’t turn to look. Instead he drops to his knees, and in that same instant a black wolf appears, leaping out of the air where Stiles was only a moment before and meeting Kate in a flurry of claws and fur.

The wolf is a sleek, jet black with crimson eyes, and it’s so hauntingly familiar that Derek aches at the sight of it. It’s not possible, but somehow he knows that he’s seeing his mother’s wolf right now. His mother who could do a full shift, the only wolf he’s ever seen do it. She’d been respected far and wide in the supernatural community, looked up to as an Alpha among Alphas for her ability to shift into an actual wolf.

And now she’s here in front of him again, and Derek knows it has something to do with Stiles. He watches as she leaps on Kate, taking advantage of whatever Stiles used to weaken her in order to take her down and sink sharp claws into her shoulders. She snarls in Kate’s face, exposing gleaming white teeth, and Derek can smell Kate’s fear in the moment before his mother’s wolf rips out her throat for the second time.

It feels a little anticlimactic, watching Kate gurgle and choke on her own blood all over again. He doesn’t trust that she’s going to stay down this time, knows his uncle won’t either, which means they’re going to have to make sure she doesn’t come back. But it’s a small price to pay, and at the moment the only thing he’s concerned with is the black wolf that is his mother, muzzle dripping in blood as she looks up at what remains of her family.

“Mom,” Cora breathes next to him, and he reaches blindly for her hand as he watches their mother’s wolf regard them for a long moment. She drinks them in as though she’s trying to memorize every detail, as though she knows this is the only chance she’ll get to see them. He’s almost convinced that she’s going to shift back into the woman he still misses every day, that he’ll get to see that face he loved so much one more time, but a moment later she’s turning away.

The wolf trots back to Stiles, and Derek realizes belatedly that he’s still on his knees, swaying as though maybe he’s having trouble staying awake. When she reaches him she nuzzles his jaw with her giant head, and when he blinks up at her she presses their foreheads together and just looks into his eyes.

Time freezes while the rest of the wolves in the room watch whatever’s happening between Stiles and the ghost of Talia Hale. For a long moment no one so much as breathes, then Stiles manages a short nod and the wolf lets out a snort. She nudges Stiles one last time with her muzzle, and there should be a trail of blood smeared along his jaw, but his skin is just as pale as ever when she pulls away.

“I promise,” Stiles murmurs, then he closes his eyes and lists to the side, and one of the Garcia Pack betas lunges forward to catch him before he hits the floor. Derek blinks at the stranger’s hands on his packmate, at the way they curve around his shoulders and hold him as though they know him. As though Stiles is a member of _their_ pack, and Derek feels his vision bleed red at the thought.

By the time he remembers to look around again he realizes his mother’s gone, disappeared as suddenly as she came. He knows it must be a Spirit Walker thing, just another example of Stiles and the power he’s just learning to yield. Derek wants to be angry, wants to rage at the fact that Stiles seems to have this connection to his mother now, but he can’t be angry when Stiles is the reason Kate’s gone. He’s the reason Derek has his sister back, and even if she decides to stay in Mexico, at least he has another chance to be part of her life.

“I’ll take him,” Derek says, stepping up to the beta still cradling Stiles and reaching down to lift the unconscious body into his arms. It feels a little strange, holding Stiles so close when he’s spent so long pushing him away, but it’s the least he can do. After all, Stiles has held him up when he needed it often enough.

They still have a lot to do; they have to take Kate's body away from this place that's filled with magic, cut her in half to make sure she can't come back this time, and then maybe burn her corpse for good measure. They have to get Stiles to safety and find someone to check him over and make sure he's okay and not injured anywhere Derek can't see, and he has to figure out what Cora's going to do now that she's not in danger anymore. But for right now Derek just holds Stiles close, imagining he can scent his mother where her ghost touched Stiles' skin and wishing they'd had just a little more time.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles watches Kate coming toward him, claws out and looking every inch the deranged murderer she is. He braces himself for the feeling of claws and maybe fangs sinking into his skin, but the pain never comes. Instead he feels himself falling, out of his body and into gray nothingness that he realizes after a moment is the spirit world.

He’s not sure what happened; it’s the first time he’s Walked without trying, and it’s definitely the first time he’s done it while he was in the middle of something important. He pictures Kate’s claws again and looks down at his torso, but there’s not a scratch on him. 

“Am I dead?” he wonders aloud, then he wonders if it’s actually going to take this time.

“Not exactly,” answers a familiar voice, and when Stiles realizes who it is, his heart lurches and then lodges directly in his throat.

“Mom?”

“I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart,” his mother says, her face swimming into focus in front of him. She looks just the way she did back when she was healthy, before the sickness took her memory and then her light, peeling away layer after layer until all that was left was a husk of the woman who’d loved him more fiercely than anyone else has or probably ever will.

Stiles feels his eyes start to sting and wonders how he can cry when he’s not technically in his body, but instead of asking he just tries to remember how to breathe. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Hush now, none of that,” she says, then she reaches out and folds him in her arms the same way she did when he was little. It feels the same somehow, even though he’s taller now than she ever was and he knows she’s not technically _there_. “I know why you took your time, my brave boy. But you never had anything to worry about. I’m so sorry my death was so painful for you, and I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer so much on your own since I left.”

“No, Mom, I haven’t...I mean, Dad’s been there, sort of, and I had Scott.”

“I wish I could have stayed with you,” she says, squeezing him a little tighter before she eases back to look at him. “I knew your father wasn’t ready to raise you alone, but I wasn’t given a choice.”

“Dad’s okay. I’m not that easy to deal with, that’s not his fault.”

“Always so loyal.” His mom gives him a rueful smile and cups his chin in one hand. “But you have to promise me that you won’t let that fierce loyalty of yours keep you from living your life. You’re so special, my Mieczyslaw, more special even than I realized when I was alive. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

He wants to ask what she means, but he’s a little afraid he already knows the answer. People keep telling him he’s special and he’s trying not to believe them, because if he does there’s nothing to stop him from walking away from everything he knows. Sure, Scott’s moved on to greener pastures lately, but there was a time when he needed Stiles. Derek’s never going to need him, but it feels wrong to walk away and let him fend for himself when he promised Talia he’d be there.

Still, if the people he’s sticking around for don’t even want him there, maybe he’s wasting more than just his own time. His dad can’t wait to ship him off to the middle of nowhere, and if all he’s been waiting for is an excuse to send Stiles away, maybe he should just let it happen.

There’s his tie to the land to consider, but the pack will be there to look out for it until Stiles comes home. Derek left, after all, and he’s tied to the land too. So maybe it’s a good idea to go out on his own and live a little, to discover what it is about him that people he barely knows seem to think is so special.

“I won’t,” he finally answers, and if he blinks back a few tears, well, his mother’s not going to judge him. “I promise.”

“Good boy.” She smiles at him for a long moment, then leans in to plant a kiss on his forehead. “You grew up so handsome. That Derek doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Stiles blushes, because she may be dead, but it’s still his _mom_ , and he wasn’t ever planning to discuss his pathetic lack of a love life with her. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care.”

His mother lets out a sigh, then she smiles a little sadly. “I haven’t been his biggest fan since the first time he made you cry, but I can admit that since that day he’s been through quite a bit of trauma, so I suppose he deserves a little slack. The two of you could be amazing together; that Spark of yours knew it when you were just a little boy. Of course, I had no idea while I was living that was the reason for the Hales’ interest in you.”

She frowns like maybe Stiles was in on the secret, but she has to know that at seven years old he was just as clueless about his magic as she was. He had no idea when they went to the Hale house that day that his Spark would bond him to a kid who had no interest whatsoever in being friends, let alone spending the rest of his life anchoring Stiles’ magic. 

From what he read while he was with the Fae, the reason his magic took so long to manifest was because his anchor wasn’t solid, but once a Spark is bonded, it’s incredibly hard to break the bond. He doesn’t even know how that would work, and even now that he knows it’s a possibility, he’s not sure he wants to break it. Which is all the more reason he should just walk away, because if he stays Derek’s just going to keep rejecting the bond, and who knows what that will do to his magic eventually.

He tried to move on, after Derek and Laura left town and he assumed he’d never see either of them again. He tried to convince himself he could be in love with someone else, that he could put Lydia on the same pedestal and transfer his devotion to her. But all he’d managed to do was get himself labeled the weirdo who wouldn’t leave Jackson’s girlfriend alone, and that had set him up for a lifetime of bullying.

“Everything’s a mess, Mom,” he says, his voice catching a little on the words, and she tuts at him and pulls him back into her arms.

“I know, sweetheart, but it won’t be that way forever. It will all work out, you’ll see.”

He nods against her shoulder and swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “Are you sure I’m not dead for real this time? Kate was coming at me pretty hard.”

The sound of her laugh sends another jolt straight to his heart. He’d nearly forgotten that sound, and hearing it again after all this time feels like a dream. “She was indeed, which is why someone else chose to step in and deal with her. Two souls occupying the same body takes a lot out of that body, and it seems while your body is recuperating, your soul decided to visit the spirit world.”

“Who came through?”

“Talia Hale,” his mom admits with a sigh. “She’s been keeping a close eye on you all these years. I suppose in a different life we might have been friends.”

He can’t say he’s really surprised to hear that Talia’s the one who stepped in. He didn’t know a spirit could do that, but he supposes if he can walk the line between the worlds, it makes sense that he could bring a spirit through, even if he didn’t mean to. Still, it’s kind of weird to think that he’s technically dead again, and he’s not sure how often he wants it to happen. But he can’t really begrudge her the right to look after her kids, especially when she couldn’t protect them from Kate the first time.

There’s a pull in the center of his chest, and he knows somehow that means his soul’s about to be reunited with his body. The thought of leaving his mother again seems unbearable, but he knows she wouldn’t want him to give up his life to stay with her. So instead of suggesting it he just hugs her tighter, then he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything in this world or the next.” She holds his face in both hands, and when he starts to fade he can almost believe he sees tears shining in her eyes. “Don’t forget your promise.”

* * *

It’s weird, seeing Stiles so _still_. As long as Derek’s known him he’s always been moving, fingers tapping out a rhythm as he focuses on a plan of attack, or his leg bouncing while he sits through argument after argument during pack meetings. Even the few times Derek’s seen him asleep he’s usually moving, mumbling nonsense as he dreams or tossing and turning like he’s running away from something.

But since Talia’s ghost disappeared and Stiles passed out, he’s been completely motionless. Perfectly, utterly still, and if it wasn’t for the steady, slow beat of his heart, Derek would swear he was dead. The thought sends a chill through him and he clutches Stiles a little closer as they make their slow way back through the jungle to the Garcia Pack’s cars.

He worries all the way back to the cars, then he worries all the way back to Garcia Pack territory. He worries right up until he’s deposited Stiles in a warm, sunlit guest room, then he’s shunted aside by a tiny blonde woman who pushes him out of the room and shuts the door in his face.

“What just happened?” he asks no one in particular as Cora leads him and Peter down a hall to a small, private sitting room.

“Gabriela will take good care of him,” Cora promises. “She’s still training to be emissary, but she’s good at what she does. She knows how important Stiles is, she won’t let any harm come to him.”

“Does she know anything about human medicine? Stiles is still a human.”

“Careful, Derek, you almost sound as though you care what happens to him,” Peter says, the smirk in his voice grating on Derek’s nerves before he even looks at his uncle.

“Of course I care. He’s pack, whether he wants to believe it or not.”

“And yet you’ve allowed that pack of yours to treat him with disrespect, even disdain.”

“I’m supposed to fight his battles for him now too?” Derek snaps, but he can feel the color rising up his neck at the thought of all the times he’s let insults go unchecked over the past year. “They’re his friends, he should be able to handle them.”

“They’re a pack of bullies and it’s the Alpha’s job to bring them to heel,” Peter snarls back. And the thing is, Derek knows he’s right. His mother would never have allowed anyone in her pack to act the way Jackson does, or even Erica. But they’re not his family, and the thought of letting them get close enough to feel like they are makes him want to run and never look back.

“Do you know that since you told his father what he’s been up to, he’s decided to send the boy away?”

“What?” Derek says, eyes bleeding crimson as his gaze snaps back to Peter.

“He’s convinced that Stiles isn’t part of ‘pack business’, an idea he seems to have gotten from you. Apparently that means Stiles will be safer with some distant relative in God only knows where. But we both know he won’t be safer, don’t we? He’ll be a Spirit Walker no matter where he is, and that means he’ll be courted by all manner of supernatural creatures.”

“I’ll talk to the Sheriff,” Derek says, though he’s already dreading the conversation.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough talking already?” Peter asks, eyes narrowed and it’s clear that he’s laying the blame for whatever happens to Stiles squarely on Derek’s shoulders. But Derek's not the one who's been going around advertising that there's a Spirit Walker in Beacon Hills, so if the supernatural community comes courting, he's not the one who caused it.

“How does anyone even know about him?”

“I assure you, word will spread without my help,” Peter answers, raising an eyebrow at the accusation in Derek’s voice. “I told Alpha Garcia he was a Spark, that’s true, but Stiles himself is the one who told them what kind of Spark he is. The Garcia Pack was prepared to make overtures even before they found that out. 

“And do you think the Fae didn’t offer him a place in the Unseelie Court? You’re not so naive as _that_ , surely. The news will spread, mark my words, and that’s only among the creatures who can’t sense him. The ones with strong enough magic, such as the Fae, will know about him already. I guarantee others will come calling. Some might not be quite so gracious about taking no for an answer, and until he’s fully bonded, they won’t stop.”

Derek knew all this was coming, even with his limited understanding of Sparks. The idea of Stiles bonding with another pack sets his teeth on edge, so he’s been trying not to think about it. Still, he can’t stop it if that’s what Stiles wants, and clearly Derek hasn’t given him reason enough to stay with the Hale Pack.

“Wait,” Cora says, glancing between Derek and Peter with a confused frown. “I thought he was bonded to you. Did he break it?”

“We’re not bonded,” Derek says at the same moment Peter says, “It’s a partial bond.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek asks, narrowing his eyes again, but as soon as he gets the words out he has a sinking feeling he knows what Peter means. His mind flashes back to a memory of when he was twelve, of a boy crying and his mother looking angrier than she’d ever been at him as she lectured him about kindness and not letting others influence his behavior.

For a minute Peter just looks at him, expression calculating, then lets out a heavy sigh and covers his face with his hands. “Are you telling me that you don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When was the first time you met Stiles?” Peter asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looking more serious than Derek’s seen him in a long time.

“Last year, in the woods,” Derek says, but even as the words come out of his mouth he knows they’re wrong. “He and Scott were looking for his inhaler.”

Peter shakes his head despairingly, but it’s Cora who says, “No, you met when we were just kids. God, I was, like, eight? So Stiles must have been seven, and you were around twelve. Mom was courting him for the pack, don’t you remember? She ran for City Council specifically to get close to the police department so she’d have a reason to invite the Sheriff’s office for a barbecue. That was all so she could get the Stilinskis over to our house. 

“I remember because she asked me to be friendly to Stiles at school, so he’d be excited to come over to the house with his parents. I was too young to really get why it was so important, but it was the first time Mom gave me a job that was important to the pack, so I took it seriously. I think she was hoping that Stiles and I would bond. I mean, we were close in age, so it made sense.”

“That’s what she expected to happen,” Peter interjects. “All of us did, to be honest. But the second he laid eyes on you, Derek, we all knew a bond with Cora was out of the question. He was positively enthralled, the poor thing. Followed you around like a little duckling for about half an hour, until those miserable little cohorts of yours started teasing you about your ‘boyfriend’. I told Talia it was a mistake to let you invite humans, but she thought it might make you a little more pleasant to be around for once. Sadly, that didn’t exactly work out.”

An image flashes in his mind, hazy and half-remembered, of pushing a little kid down on the basketball court and making him cry. He’d thought it was one of his cousins, but had it really been Stiles all this time? He remembers how hard he’d worked to impress his human friends, how much he’d basked in the knowledge that he was stronger and faster and _better_ than all of them, star of the basketball team and worshipped by everyone.

At home Laura got most of his mother’s attention, since she was in line to be the next Alpha, and Cora got everyone else’s because she was the baby. Derek had been the unremarkable middle son in a matriarchal family, and at home that meant he didn’t stand out at all. But at school he was someone, and he can look back now and admit that the attention went to his head and made him a little too cocky.

“So...what, a little kid had a crush and I was mean to him, and that ruined Mom’s plans to court him? Why didn’t she just try again?”

“She did,” Peter says with a sigh. “But his mother was a bit overprotective, already beginning to show early signs of her illness, I believe, which just made her paranoia worse. When her son was hurt by a Hale, badly enough to make him cry as though his very heart was breaking, she understandably chose to keep him far away from all of us. Talia tried to get close again after Claudia died, if only to give Stiles a little stability while the Sheriff drank away his grief. But with his late wife being so paranoid about our family, I suppose he thought the best way to honor her memory was to continue keeping us away.”

“I remember Mom wanted me to try to stay close to him at school,” Cora adds. “But we were in different grades, so it wasn’t that easy. Then his mom died, and he basically shut down. He wouldn’t talk to anyone but that one friend of his for over a year. Then the fire happened and...well, you know the rest.”

Derek nods and looks down at his hands. The truth is he doesn’t remember much of what they’re saying, but he wasn’t nearly as involved in pack politics as his mother probably wished he would be. He remembers her trying to get him to learn about the role of the Second so he’d be ready to take over when Laura officially became Alpha, but he’d been more interested in his friends and basketball and comic books at the time.

“So what do you mean about a ‘partial bond’?” he asks, looking up at Peter again.

“Sparks tend to bond long before their powers manifest. It doesn’t necessarily have to mean a mating bond, more like what we think of as an anchor, I suppose. But it’s fairly common for a Spark to mate with their bonded eventually. It was clear the moment he laid eyes on you that his Spark chose you to bond with. But you rejected the bond, then you forgot all about him, then you rejected him _again_ when you met for the second time. Is it any wonder he doesn’t feel like pack?”

He bristles at the insinuation that all the problems with his pack are his own fault, but deep down he knows it’s true. He’s trying, but he’s so _bad_ at it, and knowing that all this time Stiles really has been helping him just because he wants to doesn’t make it any easier. And that’s another thing; he has no idea how to feel about the fact that his own mother tried to arrange a mating bond for him before he’d even figured out what to do with his dick, and if she’d lived she probably would have kept pushing it.

“So the whole family just expected me to accept this bond for the good of the pack? What if I’d met someone else I wanted to mate?”

“Your mother never would have forced you, Derek, you know that,” Peter says.

“But she still would have tried to court Stiles for the pack.”

His uncle nods and glances over his shoulder as though he’s expecting some of the Garcia Pack to be lurking, but there’s no one there. “I don’t think you’re grasping the enormity of having a Spark aligned with a pack. It’s nearly unheard of, Derek. It would have made our pack one of the most powerful in the world.”

“And if I’d chosen another mate?”

Peter shrugs, glancing down at his hands for a moment while he contemplates his answer. “She would have allowed it.”

“But…”

“But you have to understand that it’s incredibly difficult to break a Spark bond. Asking Stiles to watch you be mated to someone else would have been cruel, not to mention the turmoil it would cause within the pack. Chances are good your mother would have made Cora Laura’s second instead, and found you and your mate another pack to join. If you mated another wolf you could have gone to your mate’s pack, of course. But if you chose a human, as you seemed to prefer back then…”

Peter shrugs and spreads his hands in front of him as though he’s saying, “What can you do?” The gesture makes Derek rankle, but not as much as the thought of his family sending him away. Then again, he hadn’t been a very promising second back then, so maybe she’d considered him a small price to pay for having a Spark in their pack. Or maybe she’d just had faith that he’d come around eventually, that he’d grow up and realize how much Stiles has to offer.

And he’s done that, hasn’t he? He’s never let himself act on it, certainly, but maybe if things had gone differently, if he’d turned to Stiles instead of Kate after Paige’s death, or if he’d been there for Stiles when his mother died and never dated Paige at all. If he’d had just one more chance before everything went to hell, maybe they could have been something special.

Cora’s been quiet for most of the conversation, but finally she clears her throat and looks straight at Derek. “I don’t get it. If you keep rejecting the bond, why is he still part of your pack?”

“Stiles is the most loyal of all my betas,” Derek admits out loud for the first time. “Even before his Spark ignited, he saved my life at least twice. I’m not going to kick him out because of some bond.”

“No, I mean, why does he _stay_? I sure as hell wouldn’t stick around to be treated the way Peter says your pack treats him.”

The question makes Derek bristle, but it’s not as though he can deny it. Most of his pack treats Stiles like an afterthought at best and an annoyance at worst, even his own best friend. Derek knows he has to do better if he wants to give Stiles a reason to stick around, but is he really willing to bond himself to a seventeen-year-old kid? He’s spent so long closing himself off he’s not even sure _how_ to open up anymore, let alone to someone like Stiles.

“That’s just who Stiles is,” Derek finally answers, looking up to find Cora narrowing her eyes at him, and he realizes suddenly that if he doesn't start making some changes, he's going to lose his sister again as well as losing Stiles. “He’s loyal, even when you don’t deserve it.”

She lets out a soft huff of disbelief, but all she says is, "He's not going to stick around forever, you know. Nobody's _that_ loyal."

"I know," Derek says, glancing toward the hallway that leads to the room where Stiles is still unconscious. And the thing is, he does know. He's just not sure where to even start trying to fix it.


	13. Chapter 13

Stiles comes back to his body more slowly than he ever has after a Walk. He knows it’s the reluctance to leave his mother now that he’s found her again that’s making him hold on, keeping him from sinking back into the firm grip of reality.

He can’t stay among the dead, but there’s a part of him that’s so _tired_ , that just wants to sink into his mother’s embrace and leave the living to look after themselves for a while. But he remembers another promise he made to Talia Hale, and this one at least is a little easier than killing Kate and rescuing Cora turned out to be.

He sighs and reaches up to rub the heels of his hands against his eyes. The thought of facing the Hales isn’t all that pleasant, but he knows he can’t put it off forever, so he swings his legs over the edge of the bed he’s lying on and stands up. The guest room’s in a part of the house he didn’t see the first time he was here, but eventually he finds his way to the huge living room and through to the noisy dining room.

The table’s piled with food again, and several members of the Garcia Pack shout his name when he walks in. Alpha Garcia’s on his feet instantly, coming around the table to grip Stiles by both shoulders and look him in the eye. “You are feeling better, my young friend?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Stiles answers, because the truth is he’s feeling a little dazed, but that’s less the unexpected Spirit Walking and more the sense of welcome he gets from the Garcia Pack. “Sorry, it usually doesn’t take so long for me to come back out of it when I leave my body like that.”

Eduardo’s eyebrows go up, but it’s less the annoyed frustration he’s used to from Derek and more friendly concern. “Our Gabriela was concerned that you had exhausted yourself by using so much magic.”

“No, I mean, I’m not all that sure how it works when I’m away from Beacon Hills, but normally using magic doesn’t drain me. It’s just, well, my...I mean, someone on the other side told me that when a spirit comes through me it takes a lot out of my body, so I guess it needed to reboot or whatever.”

He steals a glimpse down the table in Derek’s direction as he speaks, and he’s not surprised to find that broody glare focused on him. He’s used to it, but it still hurts a little, even if maybe he kind of deserves it this time.

“Listen, guys,” he says, aiming his apology at all three of the Hales, “I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t actually know it could happen. Obviously if I did I would have given you a heads up.” 

The broody glare doesn’t change, but Cora and Peter both smile at him, so Stiles figures that’s as good as it’s going to get.

“What did happen, exactly?” Cora asks. “Gabriela wasn’t sure, and no one else knows that much about Spirit Walkers.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, looking around at the wide-eyed, expectant faces staring back at him. “Well, uh, Kate was coming at me, and I guess when I talked to your mom that first time we kind of connected – or maybe we were already connected from when she was alive and trying to get me to join your pack, I’m not really sure – anyway, she saw what was happening and I guess she wanted to make sure Kate stayed dead this time and you guys were safe, so she just sort of...took over.”

“But you must be hungry, to go through such an ordeal,” one of the Garcia betas says, the guy around Peter’s age who’s been giving Stiles bedroom eyes since they met. It’s a little disconcerting, but Stiles _is_ hungry, so he lets Eduardo steer him toward the head of the table, where he’s deposited in a chair between the Alpha’s mate and her oldest daughter.

Stiles knows enough about pack structure to be aware that it’s a place of honor. Just like he knows what it means when the Alpha’s mate herself, a short, plump woman with kind eyes that remind him achingly of his mother, starts piling food on his plate.

“Thank you, Mrs. Garcia,” he says, eyes wide as she fills his plate as though he’s a teenage werewolf with metabolism to match.

“You call me Inés,” she insists with a mock-stern expression, then she frowns and reaches out to pinch his cheek. “You are too skinny. Stay here with our pack for the winter and we fatten you up. Tell him he must stay, Eduardo.”

“My family wishes you to stay, young Stiles,” Eduardo says with a wink. “As I say, you are always welcome in the Garcia Pack.”

There’s a growl from down the table, and Stiles glances over to see Derek glowering even more and Peter with a hand over his face. “He’s in high school. His father will want him home.”

“Yeah, Derek would know. Him and my dad are pretty close these days,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes when Derek has the nerve to flinch. He doesn’t tell Derek that his father’s all for sending him as far away as he can get, since he’s pretty sure his dad wouldn’t consider ‘strange werewolf pack in a foreign country’ any safer than staying in Beacon Hills. “But he’s right. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve gotta get home. I’ve already been out of school way too long.”

“But you have only been here one day,” Eduardo’s middle daughter says, blinking sad brown eyes at him, and it’s almost heartbreaking enough for him to promise he’ll stay.

Stiles nods and looks around the table again, surprised to see all the disappointed expressions. He’d half expected to come down to dinner to find half the Garcia betas hitting on Derek; even if they weren’t after an alliance by marriage, Derek’s just the kind of hot that tends to get hit on as a matter of course. But most of the Garcia Pack only seems to have eyes for him, and he has no idea what to make of this sudden turn of events.

“Right, but I spent a couple months with the Fae right before I came here. I was gone a little over a week’s worth of mortal time, so I’ve missed a decent amount of school already.”

“The Fae,” a voice Stiles is almost sure belongs to Gabriela whispers, the words full of awe.

“But surely a werewolf pack would be more beneficial to a Spark than the Fae who already have their own magic,” the Beta who’s been giving him bedroom eyes says, and Stiles really wishes he could remember the dude’s name.

He opens his mouth to answer, though he’s not a hundred percent sure the guy is right, but before he says anything Derek’s talking over him. “He has a pack.”

Stiles glances at Derek, but he’s still sporting the murder brows, so he swallows a sigh and turns back to Bedroom Eyes. “Yeah, I mean, the Hale Pack’s right in town, and we share guardianship of the land, so I guess we’re aligned or whatever. Besides, if I accepted the offer Morgan le Fay made, I’d have to give up my mortality and dwell in the Fae realm, and I’m not sure I’m ready to make that kind of commitment to immortality.”

At the mention of Queen Morgana, Gabriela looks like she might burst into tears, so Stiles grimaces and shuts his mouth before he can make things any worse.

“Eat,” Inés says, gesturing toward his plate while she sends a glare down the table to let the rest of them know the conversation’s over for now. Stiles is more than happy to oblige; the food’s _amazing_ , for one thing, and his first bite of the tamales Eduardo and Inés’ oldest daughter made is nearly enough to convince him to join the Garcia Pack regardless of what his father thinks.

It feels like family in a way Stiles hasn’t had in a long time, and he can’t help wondering if Derek and Peter are thinking the same thing right now. He’s not going to stay here; he can’t, not when his father and his entire life are back in Beacon Hills, but Stiles is starting to wonder if he can’t find this feeling for himself _somewhere_ out there. Maybe not in the way he’d hoped when he was still a little kid, but that doesn’t mean he can’t find something to feel a part of some day.

He steals another glance down the table to find Derek frowning down at his plate, forearms resting on the wood surface and ignoring the food in front of him. All around him lively conversations are going on, but even when Cora nudges him with an elbow Derek just shakes his head and goes back to having a staring contest with his dinner. It makes Stiles wonder what he’s brooding so hard about, and when he reminds himself it’s not his problem anymore, the thought doesn’t make him feel any better.

* * *

Stiles is going to leave. He’s going to leave, and it’s going to be Derek’s fault, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t even know why he cares, because it’s just _Stiles_ , and there have been plenty of times when Derek wished he’d go away, just so Derek could have a break from feeling so inadequate.

It shouldn’t matter to him, not when he’s already decided that there’s never going to be anything between them except the weird, antagonistic codependency that means they keep saving each other even when they don’t particularly want to. Just like it shouldn’t matter that he’s sitting here, surrounded by a strange pack that’s already stolen his sister, watching while they try to steal Stiles too.

He hasn’t missed the way some of the Garcia betas are looking at Stiles, and if the Sheriff were here he’s pretty sure there would have been shots fired already. One of the most obvious of them is easily Peter’s age, and it makes Derek’s skin crawl to think of Stiles falling prey to someone older and too cunning for his own good the way Derek did with Kate. Not that Stiles is naive in the same way Derek was when he was sixteen and heartbroken, but when it comes to matters of the heart he’s a total innocent, and the thought of someone taking advantage of that has Derek’s claws prickling at the tips of his fingers with the urge to come out.

Listening to Stiles describe himself as _aligned with_ the Hale Pack instead of _part of_ – a big part, the most important part, a traitorous voice in the back of Derek’s mind whispers – the Hale Pack makes Derek’s jaw twitch, but that’s his fault too. His fault for not recognizing just _why_ Stiles has been so loyal to him right from the start, even when he acted as though he hated the sight of Derek. And why wouldn’t he hate Derek, if he’d gone all those years thinking Derek chose to leave him behind?

Then he came back, and the first words he said to the kid were sharp and angry and dismissive. Granted, he’d been trying to come to grips with the fact that Laura was gone, but if he’d just been a little more aware when he was younger he might have seen Stiles again and recognized an ally, at least, if not more.

Instead he’s done nothing but shunt the kid aside, ignored him, let him get _kidnapped and tortured_ , and didn’t even have the decency to notice he’d actually died protecting a pack he doesn’t even consider himself part of. And how did Derek’s pack repay him? By ignoring him and making him feel like an outsider, letting Jackson talk trash about him at every opportunity, and never once has Derek lifted a finger to stop any of it.

He misses his mom, even more so now that he’s actually seen her again. He’d tried hard not to think about whether or not his parents were watching him from some nebulous spirit world he didn’t want to believe in, but now he has proof that it exists and his mother knows exactly what’s become of the Hale Pack. Shame curls in his gut and he wants to close his eyes against it, but he’s surrounded by strange wolves and he’s not going to show weakness in front of them. Instead he keeps his eyes down and stays out of the conversations going on around him, even when Cora tries to draw him in.

After dinner the Garcia Pack disperses, some of them to clean-up duty and the rest heading for the living room and the giant television or to their own rooms to do whatever it is they do. The tiny blonde emissary hangs around trying to keep Stiles’ attention, but he finally finds a way to disengage from her more or less politely and approaches the three Hales still loitering at the end of the table.

“Look, I really am sorry,” he says, hands in his pockets and looking a lot like that kid Derek met in the woods a year ago, the one he thought he’d never laid eyes on before and had no reason to care about.

“Stiles, we got to see our mom again,” Cora interrupts before he can start rambling through an apology. “Even if we didn’t get to talk to her, it was still more than I ever thought I’d get.”

“Yeah, about that. She...uh...she asked me to deliver a message to you.”

“She did? When?” Cora asks, frowning like maybe she’s trying to work out when their mom actually spoke and how they could have missed it.

“Right before you passed out,” Derek says, voice more gruff than he meant it to be, and when Stiles glances at him he looks almost afraid. “You promised her something. Was it this?”

Stiles nods, cheeks flushing, and he glances over his shoulder toward the Garcia Pack, most of whom are pretending not to listen, even though it’s obvious they can hear every word. “Listen, maybe we should do this some place a little more private.”

Cora looks over at her pack mates and rolls her eyes, but she nods toward the stairs. “Sure. Come on.”

They follow her back to the little sitting room they’d been using earlier, Derek’s footsteps getting slower the closer they get. He can’t explain the feeling of dread gripping him at the thought of hearing what their mother has to say, but by the time they reach the little room he’s so tense he’s pretty sure he can hear his jaw grinding.

He doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to sit here with his remaining family and hear how ashamed his mother is of him. Or worse, that she’s _proud_ , because he’ll know that’s a lie. But if he turns and walks out Cora will just come after him, and he knows if she asks him to he’ll come back to hear whatever Stiles has to say. So he takes a seat on one of the couches, sitting tense on the edge and gripping his hands between his knees while he waits for Stiles to spit out whatever message he’s got.

“This might seem a little weird,” Stiles says, exhaling heavily like he’s nervous about how they’re going to react. “I guess it’s part of being a Spirit Walker? I mean, being able to communicate with the dead, bringing back messages to the living, it’s all part of the gig, right? But I haven’t run into anyone who’s asked me to deliver a message yet, so I wasn’t sure if it was just a verbal thing or what.

“I mean, mostly I’ve talked to my Babcia before this, and she didn’t have any messages to give out other than calling my dad a stubborn fool, but I doubt she expected me to pass that one on.”

Derek wants to snap at Stiles, to tell him to quit babbling and get on with it, but the sooner he stops babbling the sooner he’s going to say whatever Talia wants him to say, so instead Derek keeps his mouth shut and squeezes his hands a little tighter.

“Anyway, so apparently the way it works is that the spirit actually _gives_ me a message. Not like she told me what to say. It’s more like a little movie, I guess? Or a memory, maybe. So I have to use my magic to give you each your message. It might be a little weird, but I promised I’d deliver them.”

Peter’s looking apprehensive, with good reason, considering, but Cora sits up a little straighter, eyes bright and hopeful at the idea of hearing from their mother. “What do we have to do?” she asks.

“Just...here,” Stiles says, then he reaches out and lays his hands on her head, palms brushing her temples, and shuts his eyes. It only takes a couple seconds before he opens them again and backs up a few steps, letting go of Cora in the process.

Instantly her eyes fill with tears, but she’s smiling, bright and happy and suddenly looking just like the little girl Derek remembers from before the fire. “Thank you,” she breathes, then she launches herself at Stiles and wraps him in a tight hug.

“No problem,” he answers with the little laugh Derek knows means he’s feeling awkward. He pats her on the back and eases out of her grip with more grace than Derek would have given him credit for. “Glad to know it worked.”

He turns to Peter next, and when he sees the fear in Peter’s eyes Stiles smiles. “Believe me when I say I know how you’re feeling, dude, but I swear it’s not bad. I can’t actually _see_ the message? But I can get kind of a feel for it, and I promise it’s good.”

Peter regards him for another few beats, but finally he nods and lets Stiles press his hands to either side of his head. A few moments later Stiles steps back, and Peter sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes tight. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“Don’t mention it,” Stiles says. He takes another deep breath before he turns to Derek, but before Stiles can get near him Derek’s standing up and backing toward the door.

“I don’t want it,” Derek says, his eyes bleeding crimson.

“Derek, just wait...” Cora starts, but Derek just shakes his head and reaches for the doorknob.

“I don’t...I can’t,” he stammers, shame and fear and a weird, twisting anger flooding him. He can’t worry about the disappointment in Cora’s eyes or the resignation in Stiles’ expression, can’t even look at his uncle to see the judgment there. He just has to go, to get away before they can try to convince him that he wants this, that he somehow _deserves_ his mother’s forgiveness after everything he’s done.

A second later he’s back in the hallway, then he’s hurrying down the stairs and out of the house, and none of them try to stop him from going.


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles isn’t surprised that Derek takes off before he can deliver Talia’s message. If he’d had time to think about it that’s pretty much the exact reaction he would have expected. Well, he probably would have expected violence, actually, so really the mighty Alpha turning tail and running is a better outcome than he could have predicted.

He doesn’t wait around for Derek to come back and change his mind. Instead he tells Cora that Derek knows where to find him when he does decide he wants to hear what Talia has to say, then he makes sure Peter brought his passport with him when they zapped down to the Garcia territory. He says his goodbyes to Cora’s pack, endures some overly friendly hugs and more assurances that he’s more than welcome to come stay with them any time, and _believes_ himself home.

Cora tries to talk him into staying, insisting that he drive back to Beacon Hills with them once they figure out where Derek left his car. But even if he wasn’t worried about intruding on their family bonding time, the last thing he wants to do is sit in a car with Derek for however many hours it would take to get home, especially with Talia’s message hanging in the air between them.

Still, he can make Derek’s life a little easier, so he feels out the Camaro with his magic and fixes the flat tire Kate clearly orchestrated. Whatever poison she used to knock Derek out seems to have dissipated, so he leaves the now fixed car on the side of the road for Derek to find. Chances are good that’s where he ran off to, and focusing on finding it will give him something to take his mind off all the ghosts of the past he’s had to face in the past few days.

Once he’s done with all that he zaps himself back to his bedroom, pleased to see that his magic held long distance and his dad hasn’t been in there rifling through his stuff. Not that there’s much for him to find, but the last thing Stiles wants is for his dad to start going through his books or his computer history and decide that Stiles is too dangerous to ship off to some unsuspecting aunt in Ohio. He doesn’t need a one way trip to Eichen House, especially not now that his Spark is active.

He unseals his bedroom door and lets himself out into the house, feeling around with his magic as he goes. Finally he finds his father in the living room, snoring softly in his recliner with a mostly empty bottle of Jack on the table beside him. Stiles swallows a sigh and picks up the bottle, but when he reaches for the empty tumbler his father snorts and blinks himself awake.

“Claud?”

Stiles winces at the sound of his mother’s name, but he swallows down the hurt it brings with it. “No, Dad, it’s me.”

“Oh,” his dad says, frowning in confusion like he’s not exactly sure where he is. Or when, maybe, and that’s even worse. “You’re home.”

“Yeah. We can talk tomorrow, Dad. Get some sleep.”

He starts to pull away, but his dad’s hand comes out to grip his wrist before he can move. “You said you talked to your grandmother?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says again, heart sinking when he realizes where this conversation is going.

“Have you...have you talked to your mom?”

“Dad…”

“I just...I miss her every day.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Stiles says as he gently extricates his wrist from his father’s slack grip. “So do I.”

He watches his father drift back into a restless sleep, praying he’s had enough whiskey to forget all about this in the morning. He hasn’t even had time to think about his conversation with his mom, let alone what he’s going to tell his dad about it, and now that he’s seen him like this, Stiles isn’t sure telling him will do him any good.

Sure, it’s another lie, but at this point there have been so many secrets between them that one more doesn’t matter. Especially if the truth is just going to hurt his dad.

Would it make it better or worse, to rattle around in this house alone, knowing that Stiles had a direct line to his mom? Maybe that would be the detail that finally pushed his dad over the edge, made him wish he’d never had a son. Or maybe he’d decide he needed to keep Stiles close, just in case...in case what? In case his mom reappeared suddenly the way Talia had done?

Or maybe Stiles is too much of a reminder of his mother, and that’s the reason his dad’s so eager to be rid of him. He swallows hard against the lump in his throat and sets the glass and bottle next to the kitchen sink, then he pours his dad a glass of water and sets it on the table next to his chair. He stands there and just looks for a few moments, then he shakes his head and makes his way back upstairs.

There’s not much chance of him getting any sleep, especially after the hours he spent passed out in the Garcia Pack’s guest room, so he picks up one of the books about Sparks that appeared in his room not long after he left the Fae realm. The slight shimmer on the covers when they first appeared would have told him they were a gift from the Fae even if he couldn’t tell that they definitely were not written by any human.

The lore in all of them goes back centuries, histories of entire species and tales of powerful magic that Stiles knows he’ll guard with his life. It’s enough to distract him for a little while from thoughts of his dad and his dead mother and the look of despair on Derek’s face right before he took off. He’s not thinking about going back to school tomorrow and facing the rest of the pack, or what’s going to happen when his dad tells him to pack his bags so he can be exiled all the way across the country.

He reads well into the night, but at some point he must pass out from sheer exhaustion, because he wakes with a start just before his alarm is due to go off. Once he’s done in the bathroom and changed into school clothes he stumbles down the stairs, expecting to find an empty house. Instead his dad’s waiting for him at the kitchen table, and Stiles’ stomach knots at the expression on his face.

“Hey, Dad.”

“I’m not going to bother asking where you’ve been, because I doubt you’d tell me the truth.”

Stiles flinches at the accusation, because it’s not really fair. Sure, he’s told a few lies and kept a lot of truths from his dad, but he only did it to protect him. It seems he’s always protecting someone, and all he ever gets for his efforts is disappointment. “I was in Mexico saving Derek from being turned into a zombie by Kate Argent.”

He can tell from his dad’s expression that he thinks Stiles is lying again, but there’s nothing he can do about that. It’s the truth, and if his father refuses to believe him, nothing Stiles can do will convince him of the truth.

“Stop,” his father says, one hand raised, palm out. “Just save it, okay?”

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth.” Stiles’ voice is quiet, not his usual defensive tone whenever his father tries to call him on his bullshit, and that seems to bring his dad up short. For a few seconds he just frowns at Stiles, then he shakes his head and stands up, reaching for his sidearm where it’s resting on the table and clipping it into its holster.

“I need to get to the station. I assume you’re going to school today?”

Stiles nods, even though that’s the last thing he wants to do. It doesn’t feel anywhere near as important as it did just a few weeks ago, when a high school diploma was his only ticket out of this town. Now that he knows he’s tied to Beacon Hills no matter what, escaping doesn’t seem all that urgent anymore.

His dad pauses, then he clenches his jaw and looks away. “I finally spoke to your aunt. She can’t take you until after the holidays. It seems she’s going on a cruise over Christmas with some of her girlfriends, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be without supervision while you’re still settling in someplace new.”

He’s not sure whether to be relieved that he’s not being shipped out on the next flight east, or insulted that his father thinks he can’t be trusted on his own for a week or two. Either way, the thought of spending Christmas with some distant relative he doesn’t even know isn’t any more appealing than spending it here with people who don’t want him around, so he’s not going to argue about it.

“Fine.”

For a second his dad looks like he wants to say something else, and Stiles knows he can’t use magic to make him change his mind or forget everything Derek told him, but it’s tempting. As it is he just holds his father’s gaze, but when his dad lets out a sigh and looks away Stiles swallows against the sudden tightness in his throat.

“I’m working a double. Don’t wait up.”

Then he’s gone, leaving Stiles standing in the kitchen staring after his dad and wondering if it’s better that he seems to have forgotten asking about Stiles’ mom.

* * *

It takes Derek a few hours to track down the Camaro, still sitting on the side of the road where he left it. He’s expecting to have to drag it back to Garcia Pack territory, and he’s looking forward to the physical exertion to distract him from all the thoughts racing around in his head. But when he gets there the blown tire is whole once again, as though nothing ever happened to it.

It’s _possible_ that some Good Samaritan happened upon his car on a dusty, mostly deserted road, then replaced a stranger’s tire with the exact same tire he started with. It’s possible, but he doesn’t have that kind of luck. So it’s a lot more likely that magic is involved, and Derek swallows hard at the thought that Stiles took the time to do this for him between all the other miracles he’s been pulling off since he got to Mexico.

The keys are still in the ignition, which is another miracle, but for once he doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead he slides behind the wheel and puts the car in gear, then he points it back toward the Garcia Pack and what remains of his family.

Driving back takes a lot less focus than walking back dragging an entire car behind him, so he’s not surprised when memories of the past few days creep up on him unbidden. It means he gets back to the house a lot faster than he’d planned as well, and he’s not surprised to find Cora waiting for him in the courtyard when he gets there.

“Stiles left,” she says, then she punches him in the arm hard enough to mean it. It sounds like an accusation, and maybe he deserves it, but before he can defend himself her expression softens into something almost understanding. “I tried to get him to wait and drive back with us, but I don’t think he wanted to intrude.”

“You’re coming back to Beacon Hills?”

“Duh,” Cora answers, rolling her eyes as though it should be obvious. “But I need to pack some stuff, and I have to say goodbye to everybody, so I was thinking we could all stay here one more night and leave in the morning.”

“Okay,” is all Derek says, because he knows he needs to get back to his pack, but this is his little sister who he never thought he’d see again, and there’s no way he’s going to say no to anything she asks. Besides, Stiles is back in Beacon Hills already, and he’s proven he can take care of pretty much anything that comes at them, so if the pack has any problems Derek knows Stiles will deal with it.

It doesn’t even feel that weird to treat Stiles like his second; he’s been thinking of him that way for a while, even when the knowledge irritated him. Stiles is the most reliable of all his betas, and he’s said over and over again that he’s the most loyal. So the fact that he’s not a werewolf has never stopped Derek from thinking of him as the most trustworthy member of his pack, and now that his Spark is activated, he’s the clear choice to help Derek lead.

Or he would be, if Derek can convince him to stay and be part of the Hale Pack. He knows one sure way to do it, but that doesn’t seem fair to Stiles when he hasn’t even really had a chance to live yet. Then again, he doesn’t even know if Stiles still wants that from him after years of being pushed aside and ignored, and even if he does, Derek’s not sure he can give it. He doesn’t want to hurt Stiles, but he doesn’t want to lose him either, and he’s not sure how to find the middle ground between those two points.

When Cora goes up to her room to start packing Derek follows, mainly because he doesn’t feel like making small talk with any of the Garcia Pack. They’re all nice enough, but they’re far more interested in Stiles than they are in Derek, and he doesn’t have the patience to answer a bunch of intrusive questions about where Stiles fits into the Hale Pack and how Derek could even think of letting him get away.

For a while they work in silence, Derek carefully taking the books off Cora’s bookshelf and stacking them neatly in a box while she goes through her closet deciding which clothes she can’t live without. He’s almost managed to distract himself from thinking about Stiles and his pack when Cora looks over at him, her expression hesitant.

“Is Stiles’ dad really going to send him away?”

Derek doesn’t want to answer, because the truth is he doesn’t know. He doesn’t want Stiles to leave, but if the Sheriff’s determined there’s not much Derek can do about it. The chances of him actually listening to reason are pretty slim, especially when Derek’s the reason he wants to send Stiles away in the first place.

“Why does Stiles matter so much to you?” he asks instead.

“Relax, I don’t have an inappropriate crush on your mate,” she answers, complete with an impatient little huff, and when Derek feels his cheeks flush he looks back down at the box of books.

“He’s not my mate.”

“Why? Is it because he’s a guy?”

“No,” Derek answers, because that’s never been the problem. Sure, maybe when he was twelve he was susceptible to teasing, but he’s had plenty of years since then to figure out that someone’s gender is the least important thing about them, at least where he’s concerned. “He’s underage, for one thing.”

“So? Marco was ready to propose to him at dinner, and he’s thirty-two.”

“Do I seriously have to explain to you how much is wrong with that statement?”

Cora lets out a breath, but instead of sounding impatient this time, she sounds more nervous.

“I don’t think you understand what a big deal it is to have a Spark in your pack, Derek. It doesn’t happen very often at all. Eduardo didn’t push it because he knows you’re my family and he wants to keep things friendly between us, but if you were just some random Alpha he would have pushed a lot harder to get Stiles to stay.”

“Because of his power,” Derek says, jaw clenching at the thought of some pack trying to lure Stiles in just so they can use him. “Doesn’t he deserve better that that?”

“Like what?”

“Like someone who wants him because of _him_ , not what he can do.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” Derek says, even though he knows what she’s asking, so he’s not surprised when she rolls her eyes and throws a shirt at his head. 

“Do _you_ want him because of him?”

He opens his mouth to say he doesn’t want Stiles at all, but he knows she’ll hear the lie, so there’s no point in saying it.

“It’s not that simple,” he says instead. “Maybe before the fire, if we still had a whole pack and I didn’t have to worry about keeping the family going. Maybe we would have grown up together and fallen in love, and it wouldn’t have mattered if we adopted or didn’t even have kids. But we’re all that’s left now, and I have to think about these things.”

He leaves out the part where he’s not sure he _can_ love Stiles, at least not the way he deserves, because that means telling her the whole story about Kate, and he’s not sure he’s ready for that yet. Maybe that makes him a coward, or maybe it just makes him selfish, because he wants Cora to come back to Beacon Hills enough that he’s not willing to give her an excuse to stay in Mexico.

“Derek,” she says, frowning at him like maybe she’s confused for some reason, though he thought he was being pretty straightforward. He waits for her to continue, but before she can there’s a knock on her bedroom door, then Gabriela sticks her head in to smile at them.

“So sorry for the interruption, but Eduardo would like to speak with you, Alpha Hale.”

And okay, he’s definitely a coward, because he finds himself grateful for an easy way out of the conversation.

“Of course,” he says, nodding his thanks to the emissary before he turns back to Cora. “You stay here and finish packing. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Derek, I really think…”

“We’ll talk later,” he assures her, his mind already on the conversation he assumes Alpha Garcia wants to have about becoming formal allies. “Plenty of time on the ride home, right?”

She’s still frowning when he backs out of the room, but she doesn’t try to stop him again, and Derek swallows a relieved sigh and follows Gabriela downstairs to meet with the Alpha.


	15. Chapter 15

Walking into school after nearly two weeks away feels weird, like Stiles doesn’t belong there anymore. He knows that part of the reason he feels so much different than last time he was here is because for him it’s been months since he sat through classes, since he suffered through lunch with the pack mostly ignoring him even though technically they were the ones invading his and Scott’s table.

But the days of Stiles-and-Scott are long gone, and maybe it’s for the best, because it means Scott won’t have to miss him when his father sends him away. He’ll still have the pack to distract him from missing his so-called best friend, if he even notices that Stiles isn’t there anymore. Though considering how much time they’ve actually hung out since Scott decided to be a part of Derek’s pack for real, Stiles won’t be holding his breath.

He sighs and climbs out of the Jeep, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before he turns to head into the school. He doesn’t even get ten paces from his car before the entire pack materializes in front of him. They can’t have been waiting for him, because none of them bothered to call or text to find out that he’s back in town, so that means he just really does have terrible luck. Stiles rolls his eyes and bites back a crack about doing a stand-off in the parking lot, of all places.

“Dude,” Scott says, stepping to the front of the group, “where have you been?”

“You know where I was, Scotty,” Stiles answers, doing his best not to let his exasperation bleed into his voice. “Or did you forget already?”

Scott frowns like he’s trying to work out whether or not he’s being insulted, but a few seconds later he shakes his head and lets it go. “No, I mean, you’re back and you didn’t call me.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you were probably busy,” Stiles says, glancing over Scott’s shoulder at Isaac. He smirks at Stiles like he thinks it’s hilarious that Scott’s been blowing off his best friend for months now, and maybe he does. Maybe Stiles’ entire life is a joke to all of them, and that’s all the more reason for him to move on.

“Aw, what’s the matter, Stilinski?” Jackson says, and there’s one voice Stiles definitely hasn’t missed. “Can’t take rejection? And here I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

Just for a second Stiles lets himself picture zapping Jackson onto another continent, or even better, outer space. It’s more comforting that it should be, and he almost smiles in spite of the fact that once again, none of his so-called friends bother to stand up for him.

“No, Jackass, I’ve just learned that certain people’s opinions don’t count for as much as I used to think they did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Scott says, and now he just sounds hurt.

“Nothing, Scott. Just that you won’t have to worry about me for much longer. Thanks to you and Derek, my dad thinks I’m responsible for every supernatural disaster that’s happened in Beacon Hills in the past year, and he’s shipping me off to live with my aunt at the end of the semester.”

“Thank fuck,” Jackson says, and when Erica snarls at him he just rolls his eyes. “Give me a break. Nobody’s going to miss the little spaz. I don’t care if he’s supposedly magic now, he’s completely useless.”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Scott finally snaps, tearing his big puppy eyes away from Stiles long enough to glare at Jackson.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. You think Derek’s going to miss him running his mouth at every pack meeting like he actually knows anything? I don’t get why Derek lets him come in the first place. He’s not even pack.”

“You’re right,” Stiles says. A couple of them protest – Scott and Erica, he’s pretty sure – and there’s even a low growl that sounds like it might have come from Boyd. But Stiles ignores it and hoists his backpack a little higher up on his shoulder. “You think I want to belong to a pack that thinks I’m useless? Jackson says that shit to me all the time, and none of you ever say anything.”

“Stiles, come on, obviously we don’t think that,” Scott says, but Stiles shakes his head at the pleading in his voice.

“How am I supposed to know that? When’s the last time you actually called me, Scotty? The only time I ever see you anymore is at school or pack meetings, and even then we don’t really talk.”

“Dude, I…”

“Anyway, why would I want to be in a pack with Jackass here?” Stiles talks over him, because he doesn’t really want to hear Scott’s excuses. “A pack’s supposed to have each other’s backs. It’s a family, not a bunch of kids with anger management issues who spend all their time snarling at each other and trying to prove how tough they are.”

“You want to see how tough I can be, Stilinski?” Jackson says, claws out as he shoves past Scott.

There’s another growl, probably Scott this time, but before any of the other werewolves react Stiles pushes out with his magic and Jackson stumbles back a few steps. For a second his eyes go wide like he’s surprised, but then his expression darkens and he charges forward again. Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves this time, sending Jackson flying into the side of the nearest car hard enough to dent the metal. He holds Jackson there, watching as he struggles against a force he can’t see.

“Do you want to try again?” Stiles says, ignoring the way the others are staring at him like they’ve never seen him before. “Because I can do this all day.”

He waits until Jackson makes a scoffing noise and looks away, and maybe he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but he bares his throat to Stiles. It’s a pretty empty victory, all things considered, but Stiles will take it.

“Dude,” Scott says again, but this time his voice is gratifyingly awed.

“That was _awesome_ ,” Erica adds, and when Stiles glances at her she’s grinning like it’s her birthday and Christmas rolled up in one.

There’s a part of him that wants to grin right back at her, but he can’t get past the fact that it’s taken a display of physical strength to make them appreciate him. None of them ever gave him any credit for all the research he’s done, even though that’s what’s saved their lives plenty of times. They didn’t even notice when he was kidnapped and tortured, or any of the other times he’s bled for the pack, so he’s not going to pretend everything’s fine just because he’s got magic now and they finally see him as useful.

“Whatever,” Jackson sneers, standing up and shaking off the last grip of Stiles’ magic. “If you think Derek’s suddenly going to want you around just because you can do a few tricks, you’re dreaming.”

He manages not to flinch, but he knows the wolves will be able to smell his emotions anyway, so he just clutches the strap of his backpack and edges around them to head into school. He doesn’t look to see if any of them are following him, so he doesn’t notice Lydia until he shuts his locker and finds her standing next to him. She’s watching him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, and he’s pretty sure that expression is supposed to be some kind of challenge.

“What?”

“Your father’s really shipping you off somewhere?”

“Yeah. Guess that means you’ve got Valedictorian in the bag after all.”

“Like I was worried about you beating me.” She rolls her eyes like the idea is a joke, which just goes to show she doesn’t know him at all, because he may have trouble with focus and sometimes he hands in papers on weird topics just because they catch his attention, but he’s acing every one of his classes.

“Then what do you want? I know you’re not just here to check on me, because this is the first time you’ve spoken to me since the night I helped you save Jackson from his scaly little problem.”

For a second she just blinks at him, like maybe it hasn’t occurred to her that they’d started to be...well, sort of friends, anyway, and she’d dropped him the second she didn’t need him anymore. But it’s Lydia, so she recovers quickly and pulls her features back into a superior mask.

“If you’re going to be leaving, someone else has to take up the mantle of emissary,” she says, as though Stiles has ever been considered the pack’s emissary. “You’re going to arrange a meeting for me with Morgan le Fay.”

He can see her daring him to say no, like he’s still so lovestruck that he’s just going to roll over and do whatever just because she’s Lydia Martin. And maybe a couple months ago he would have kept up the act, but now it just seems pointless. He barks out a laugh and shakes his head, then he turns and starts toward his class, not bothering to look over when he hears the click of her heels as she hurries along behind him.

“I’m not the emissary. The closest Derek’s got is Deaton, and I don’t think he’s really interested in helping the Hale Pack anymore. If you want the job so bad, talk to Derek.”

“Derek can’t arrange a meeting for me,” she says, and it’s true, which would tell the entire pack exactly how valuable he is, if only they’d stop to think about it for a second.

“Fine,” Stiles says, stopping in front of his classroom and looking down at her. “Let me put it this way. No, I won’t arrange a meeting for you. There’s no need. The accord’s already been reached, and all you guys have to do is stay out of their way while they’re in the preserve. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There’s plenty to talk about,” Lydia insists, her tone going from determined to that sweet kind of vicious she’s so good at. “Starting with the fact that I’m Fae and you’re not, and I want to know why Morgan le Fay would seek you out when she could have been dealing with me.”

And really he should have known this was about jealousy, because he knows Lydia better than she realizes, and he’s well aware that she’s not happy unless she’s the smartest one in the room. But she’s seen a sample of his magic now, and the fact that she’s still willing to write him off as basically worthless hurts more than it should.

“Well if you’re so much better than me, you can find the Fae all on your own,” Stiles snaps, then he turns on his heel and and heads into his classroom without waiting for an answer.

* * *

The trip back to Beacon Hills is almost pleasant, at least for the first day or so. Derek’s expecting the usual sarcasm and passive aggression from Peter, but to his surprise his uncle seems more interested in hearing about what Cora’s been up to for the past seven years than he is in needling Derek. For a little while it feels almost normal, like they could be the people they were before the fire, headed home from some errand for their Alpha that took them to another pack’s territory for a few days.

Or maybe this is what it would have been like if Cora hadn’t run off and been lost to them for so long. If she’d still been around to take care of, maybe Laura wouldn’t have been so anxious to flee Beacon Hills after the fire, and they could have stayed together and helped Peter heal without losing his mind in the process. Maybe Cora would have brought her friend Stiles into the pack, even, and with a Spark they could have been strong even with Laura as an untested Alpha and Derek drowning in guilt. The thought hurts, but it’s nice, too, and Derek lets himself sink into the fantasy while they cruise along the highway that leads back home. 

The bittersweet feeling lasts until midway through their second day on the road. He’s been thinking about stopping for the night, keeping an eye out for a good place to get dinner and then a couple hotel rooms in neutral territory, when his phone rings and drags him back to reality. He glances down at the display and sees Erica’s name, his jaw clenching at the reminder of the mess he’s going back to. For a second he considers ignoring her call, but that’s the kind of Alpha he’s trying _not_ to be anymore, so he takes a deep breath and hits ‘accept’.

“Stiles is back,” she says when the line connects, not even bothering with pleasantries. For a second he’s confused about why she’s calling to tell him something he already knows, then he realizes that he never told his pack that Stiles was back from the Fae realm.

“I know,” he answers, swallowing a sigh. “He’s been back for a few days.”

“Well, he showed up at school for the first time yesterday, and he said he’s not part of the pack anymore. Then he had a showdown with Jackson and, like, _threw_ him with magic, which was seriously cool. Now Jackson’s pissed and Stiles won’t talk to any of us.”

He knows Peter and Cora can hear everything Erica’s saying, but he doesn’t look over to see their reactions to the news. There’s a part of him that kind of wishes he’d been there to see Stiles take Jackson down a peg or two, but the more rational part of him knows that just means he’s going home to an even bigger mess than before. He wants to be mad at Stiles for antagonizing Jackson when he knows better, but Derek was just saying that Stiles should learn to stick up for himself, so he can’t blame him for finally doing it.

Still, he doesn’t love the idea of Jackson being on the warpath while Derek’s not in town to keep him in check. Sure, Stiles can handle him, but he shouldn’t have to, not against a member of his own pack.

“Derek,” Erica says, her voice smaller than he’s heard it in a long time, and Derek’s reminded suddenly how much of Erica’s new persona is sheer bravado, “he says he’s leaving. Is it true?”

“No,” he says, teeth clenched and he’s not sure which one of them he’s trying hardest to convince. “Look, Erica, I’ll take care of it, okay? I’ll be back in town tomorrow and I’ll talk to him. In the meantime, keep an eye on Jackson, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Back in town? Where are you?”

This time Derek does glance over at Peter, but all he gets in response to his silent question is a raised eyebrow. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Erica huffs, back to her usual self, “but if Stiles really does leave I’m going to gut Jackson.”

He doesn’t tell her that she’ll have to get in line. Instead he tells her to be careful and that he wants everyone at the loft tomorrow after school, then he ends the call. His enthusiasm for a leisurely dinner and an extended trip home is gone, so he pulls through the first fast food place he sees and orders dinner for all of them.

Peter makes a face at the food, but he doesn’t complain, which tells Derek he’s just as anxious to get back before Jackson does something stupid as Derek is. They drive in silence for a long time, and eventually Cora nods off in the back seat. Peter’s staring out the passenger window at the lights on the highway, but Derek can see the wheels turning in his head.

“You didn’t tell the pack that you were coming after me?”

“Stiles didn’t feel it was prudent,” Peter answers, smiling at Derek’s reaction to the idea that Peter deferred to Stiles. Not that it’s all that surprising; he’s always been a fan of Stiles, even when he pretends not to be. “And considering you didn’t tell them you were leaving in the first place, I was inclined to agree.”

In retrospect, maybe Derek should have told someone he was leaving. Isaac, at least, since he still spends nights at the loft on occasion. But he’s been staying with the McCalls more and more, whether because he likes having an actual parent around or because he’s that committed to stealing Stiles’ status as Scott’s best friend, Derek doesn’t know. He hasn’t really cared up to now, but that’s just another thing he’s screwed up since he became the Alpha.

“Do you think the Sheriff would listen if you talked to him?”

Peter lets out a derisive laugh, and Cora stirs in the back seat but doesn’t wake up. “Considering the reception I got when I went to his house to fetch Stiles? Hardly.”

Derek’s jaw tightens and he grips the steering wheel a little harder for a few seconds. “I have to try.”

“I suppose it can’t make matters any worse,” Peter agrees.

That’s the end of the conversation, but Derek’s aware of Peter brooding beside him as he presses down a little harder on the gas. He supposes he should be grateful that his uncle’s not using the fact that they’re trapped in a car together to lecture him on everything he’s done wrong since he took the Alpha power, but the truth is that Peter’s silence is even worse than the lectures.

If he’s not saying anything then he thinks it’s a lost cause already, and maybe he’s right if Stiles is refusing to speak to any of the betas. But there’s still a chance that Derek can get him to change his mind, and if he can make the Sheriff understand why sending Stiles away is a bad idea, at least that will buy him more time.

They reach the loft in the early hours of the morning, just as the sky is starting to lighten enough to make out shapes with normal human eyes. He pulls into the lot and Peter shakes Cora awake while Derek goes around to the trunk to grab some of her things. A moment later Peter and Cora appear, and between the three of them they get all her belongings upstairs in one trip.

The loft is empty when Derek lets them in, and he’s in the middle of telling Cora she can take his bedroom for now when he steps on something slippery and his foot nearly goes out from under him. Only his supernatural reflexes keep him from falling and dropping the boxes he’s carrying. He sets them down and looks for whatever tried to trip him, frowning when his gaze lands on a cream-colored envelope. It’s obviously been slid under the door, meaning it was hand delivered.

The words ‘Hale Pack’ are written across the front in a neat script, the handwriting unfamiliar but Derek supposes it could have been printed on a computer. His first thought is of Stiles; maybe he feels the need to formally resign from the pack, and this is his way of letting them know. But the envelope doesn’t smell like him, and when Derek opens it and reads the note inside, his heart kicks into overdrive.

“What? What is it?” Cora asks, leaning in to get a look over his shoulder. She reads the note and bites her lip, looking up at Derek. “Der?”

“Nephew?” Peter prompts when Derek doesn’t answer, and Derek blinks over at him.

“It’s a notice of courtship. The Alpha Pack is here for Stiles.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love Erica, so I guess this chapter is sort of my love letter to her. Also I wish she and Stiles had a chance to be friends before Gage left the show. Oh well, the writers would have screwed it up anyway.

It’s easier than Stiles expects, avoiding the pack in school. Most of them don’t bother trying to talk to him, so mainly it’s a matter of keeping his head down in class and skipping lunches in the cafeteria. Scott gives it a couple half-hearted tries in the few classes they share, but he’s got Isaac and Allison whispering in his ear, probably telling him Stiles isn’t worth it, so he gives up pretty fast. Stiles tells himself that doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t matter that he’s lying, because nobody else knows.

On his third day of avoiding the pack he spends his lunch in the library, tucked between the end of the fiction section and the beginning of the biographies with the homework he still has to make up laid out in front of him. That’s where Erica finds him, bright red lips curved up in a predatory grin as she folds herself down next to him and leans into his shoulder. “Hey, Batman.”

“Catwoman,” Stiles says, falling easily into the familiar banter. “Did the pack send you?”

The look she gives him tells him what she thinks of being anyone’s errand girl, but a second later she blinks and looks down, and suddenly she’s Erica from before the bite. “Are you really leaving?”

“Not like I have much choice. My dad’s shipping me off to live with my aunt.”

“He can’t really mean it. He probably just needs some time to adjust to the whole concept, you know?”

“Yeah, I don’t really think that’s going to help this time,” Stiles says. “Look, no offense, but why do you care? It’s not like we’re friends.”

For a second he thinks she’s going to argue with him, but then she sniffs and leans down so she can rest her head on his shoulder. “We could have been. _Should_ have been. That stuff you said the other day, about the way a pack’s supposed to run? That’s what we signed up for. Me and Boyd, anyway. I haven’t talked to the others. When we decided to leave Derek that night Gerard caught us, it was because he’d sold us this image, but it wasn’t even close to what he delivered.”

“Derek’s trying,” Stiles says, because even now he can’t seem to stop himself from sticking up for the guy. “He’s been through a lot of shit and I know he’s messed up a lot, but he’s really trying. I think things will get a little better from now on,” he adds, because that’s what he hopes. Maybe having Cora here will make Derek’s pack start to feel a little more like the one he lost, and he’ll let himself open up to his betas enough to keep them from bailing again.

“You always stick up for him, even when he’s being a complete asshole,” Erica says, but she sounds more curious than mocking, so Stiles shrugs with the shoulder she’s not leaning on.

“I’ve known him a really long time.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, and Stiles starts to wonder if that’s the end of the conversation. He wishes they could have been friends back when it counted, before everything got messed up and his dad decided he needs to get out of Beacon Hills. But it’s too late now, because as soon as he’s gone they’ll all forget he was ever here, and thinking about them moving forward without him hurts too much.

“I’m sorry we told him about Gerard,” Erica finally says, voice quiet. “Boyd is too. Derek used his Alpha voice, though, we couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles answers. “It was bound to come out sometime, what with the whole Spirit Walker thing and all.”

“That was so cool, what you did to Jackson,” Erica says, and he can hear her grin in her voice. “He’s still pissed.”

Stiles grins too in spite of himself, because if there’s one good thing that should come out of this whole mess, it’s Jackson getting put in his place for once. “Good.”

“I’m sorry about that time I knocked you out, too,” she says. “I guess I spent so long being mad at you for picking Lydia and not even noticing I was there that when I finally got your attention, I overreacted.”

Stiles lets out a breath and tilts his head to rest it on top of Erica’s curls. For a second he can almost believe that he could have loved her the way she wanted, if he’d just noticed her back then. But he knows the truth, and there’s no use lying just to make her feel better.

“The reason I chose Lydia is because I knew it would never happen,” he says, reaching for one of Erica’s hands and sliding their fingers together. “I didn’t know it at the time, but when I was a kid, my Spark chose someone to bond to. It’s the way Sparks work, they pick someone to anchor their magic before it ever manifests, and that person’s supposed to keep you stable.

“The person my Spark chose was older and they didn’t want anything to do with me. So I thought if I pretended to have a crush on someone as unattainable as Lydia, maybe eventually I could move on. Fake it til you make it, you know?”

She nods against his shoulder, and Stiles lets out a shaky laugh. “Did it work?”

“No. All I managed to do was put myself on Jackson’s radar, and you know how that worked out.”

“Jackass,” she mutters, and when Stiles laughs this time it’s a little stronger.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t really blame him, I guess, but it’s not like anything was ever going to happen. I just wanted to forget about the person I’m bonded to, and even that didn’t work.”

“They still don’t want you?”

“Definitely not,” Stiles says. He tries not to picture Derek’s face the last time he saw him, the fear in his eyes and the way he’d practically bolted out of the room, like Stiles was something to be afraid of.

“Do you want me to kick their ass?”

Stiles barks a surprised laugh at the image of Erica trying to defend his honor against Derek, of all people, but in the end he decides that’s not really fair. It’s not Derek’s fault he doesn’t want Stiles. He’s never really blamed Derek for that; Stiles isn’t exactly much of a catch, after all. He’s skinny and a little weird looking and he talks too much, and that doesn’t even take into account the fact that he’s five years younger than Derek. So he’s okay with Derek not wanting him, but he wishes they could have at least been friends.

“Thanks anyway,” he says, grinning when she laughs. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were into me.”

“It’s okay. I worked pretty hard to be invisible for a long time.”

“I’m glad you’re not invisible anymore,” he says, and he means it. She’s got way too much to offer to stay locked in the padded cell that was her life before the bite, and even after everything that’s happened, Stiles is glad Derek chose her.

They sit there for a few more minutes, shoulders pressed together and Erica’s arm looped through his. It feels good, and he wishes all over again that it could have been like this from the beginning. He wishes they all could have been friends, or at the very least that they could have learned to work together. For Derek’s sake he hopes they figure it out, even if it takes him leaving to make it happen.

“Derek wants everyone at the loft tonight,” Erica says after a while, then she turns so she can look up at him.

“Yeah? Don’t tell them I said hi.”

“He wants you there too,” she says, even though she has to know what his answer’s going to be. “I know he does.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t always get what we want, right?” he says, and when she sighs and settles back down against his shoulder, he tells himself that he’s making the right choice.

* * *

None of them gets much sleep on their first night back in town. They spend most of it rehashing everything they can remember about the Alpha Pack, from their mother’s dealings with Deucalion to the rumors Peter’s heard from other supernaturals over the years.

It makes sense that they’d be interested in courting Stiles, Derek knows. He’s a rare and powerful Spark, after all, and the Alpha Pack is interested in power above all. They’re not the kind of pack Stiles would choose to join, but Derek knows they won’t be as happy to take no for an answer as the Garcia Pack, or even the Fae.

Eventually they split up long enough for showers and a few hours of sleep. Peter slinks off to his own apartment, but he’s back before long, whether it’s because he’s worried about the Alpha Pack or that he wants to stay close to Cora, Derek doesn’t ask.

“Then again,” Peter says while they’re waiting for the rest of the pack to show up, “it could be the Alpha Pack is using our Spark as an excuse to get to you.”

“What would they want with me?” Derek asks, frowning when Peter rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be obtuse, Nephew. You know what the Alpha Pack does. Between a kanima, a dead hunter, and all the teenagers that have been turned recently, our pack has been on the supernatural radar for some time, and it’s logical that the Alpha Pack would want to test your mettle.”

“Okay, but wouldn’t Stiles still be the more attractive option?”

Peter smirks but doesn’t comment on Derek’s choice of words, or the way his ears heat up a little as he says them.

“Certainly he would, as you say, be the more _attractive_ prize. But they might court him to get to you, and once they’ve forced you to kill your pack, they could use you as a bargaining tool to force Stiles to join them as well. Two for the price of one, so to speak.”

Derek scowls but doesn’t try to argue, mostly because Peter knows more about the Alpha Pack than he does, so if he says it’s a possibility then he’s probably right. Still, a hostile pack makes everything more complicated, and there’s no way to know why they’re really here until they make another move.

He’s still trying to wrap his head around what it all means when the loft door slides open and Isaac appears, followed closely by Scott and Allison. It’s not long after that Lydia and Jackson appear, and eventually Erica and Boyd make their way in to monopolize the couch. There’s no sign of Stiles, and Derek knows he shouldn’t be surprised, but it hurts a little anyway.

“Where’s Stiles?”

“He won’t talk to us,” Scott mutters, expression morose, and Derek rolls his eyes because Scott didn’t seem to care all that much what Stiles was doing until he told them all to go to hell.

“Good riddance,” Jackson sneers. Cora stiffens next to him, and Derek reaches out to rest a calming hand on her shoulder.

“He’s not coming,” Erica adds before Derek can tell Jackson to keep his opinions to himself. “I talked to him at lunch and told him you wanted everyone here, but he said no.”

“He talked to you?” Scott asks at the same time Jackson says, “What the hell did you do that for?”

Erica’s features twist into a sneer, but before she can snap at either of them Derek holds up a hand. “Enough. Cora, Peter, see if one of you can get him here. Tell him whatever you need to. The rest of you shut up,” Derek adds when he sees Jackson open his mouth to protest.

“Who is that?” Isaac asks, gesturing toward where Cora’s standing near the stairs, fingers flying over her phone as she texts Stiles.

“My sister Cora,” Derek answers, and he sees the surprise in his betas’ eyes. “She was living in Mexico with another pack. Stiles found her, and we went down there and brought her back. I’ll introduce you all later. For now we’ve got bigger problems.”

“Stiles went to Mexico? With _you_?” Scott asks, frowning like he can’t wrap his head around the idea, and Derek knows the feeling. He wants to laugh, because it does seem pretty ridiculous, but he’s too worried about the Alpha Pack and what their presence in Beacon Hills means to worry about anything else.

“That’s not important right now,” Derek says, holding up a hand when Scott opens his mouth to argue. “When we got home last night there was a note waiting for me. It had been pushed under the loft door. There’s another pack in town.”

They all start talking at once, but Derek tunes them out and focuses instead on the sound of Peter’s voice. He’s in the kitchen, his tone hushed as he says, “Believe me, I completely understand your desire to keep your distance from these fools. Unfortunately we’ve got business that affects you directly, and you’ll want to be here for it.”

He can’t quite make out Stiles’ response over the arguments starting in the living room, but the fact that he answered his phone for Peter is probably a good sign. It’s better than complete radio silence, anyway, and that’s sort of what Derek expected after the way they left things in Mexico.

He’s tried not to think about his mother’s message, and Peter and Cora haven’t pushed it, but he’s not sure what seeing Stiles again is going to do to him. Still, he has to figure it out if he wants to keep Stiles from leaving before he has a chance to make things right.

“Ten minutes,” Peter says when he emerges from the kitchen, sliding his phone into his pocket. Cora’s still texting, but Derek assumes Stiles is on his way regardless. He nods in acknowledgement and turns back to the rest of his betas, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing them all with a stern glare.

“This hasn’t been much of a pack so far, and that’s my fault. I told you about the dangers you’d face in taking the bite, but I didn’t tell you what pack is supposed to be to each other. Scott, I know you didn’t get a choice in any of this,” Derek says when he sees Scott narrow his eyes, “but there’s nothing I can do to change that. All I can do is start working on making us a real pack, one that supports every member, supernatural or not.”

He pauses, taking in the hopeful looks on Erica and Boyd’s and even Isaac’s faces, the skeptical look on Scott’s, and the sneer on Jackson’s. That’s going to be an uphill battle, he knows, and there’s still a part of him that’s tempted to beat Jackson into submission. But that’s not what his mother would have done, so it’s not what Derek’s going to do either.

“Jackson, that goes for you too. If you want to be part of this pack you’re going to start treating every member with respect, regardless of your personal feelings.”

“Fine,” Jackson says, and now he just looks smug. “Stilinski’s not pack so that’s not a problem.”

“Stiles is pack,” Derek says, jaw clenching against the urge to put Jackson and his smug grin through a wall. “Stiles has been pack for longer than any of you, and he’ll always have a place here. Whether or not he accepts it is up to him, but if you want to be in this pack you’re not going to give him any more reason to leave. Do you understand?”

The smug look melts into a scowl, and Derek can see his fangs trying to come out. “Are you fucking kidding me? I have to play nice with that little freak just for the chance to hang around these losers? I didn’t even _want_ a pack.”

Derek shrugs, because it’s not like that’s a surprise. He knows now that biting Jackson was a mistake, one he never would have made if he hadn’t been hopped up on the first rush of Alpha power and looking to turn anyone willing. He’d needed a pack and Jackson had been there, but he couldn’t have been a worse choice. First there was the whole kamina mess, and even now he’s resistant to everything it means to be a werewolf.

“You don’t have to be part of the pack, Jackson. If you want to be an omega, that’s fine. I won’t force you out of my territory, but at the first sign of you going feral, I _will_ put you down.”

He sees the flicker of fear flash in Jackson’s eyes, but he pulls it back and schools his features into a mask of indifference. The truth is that Jackson has no idea how to control the power the bite gave him, and he’d make a far more dangerous omega than Scott ever was. Derek doesn’t want him around his pack if all he’s going to do is stir up tension, but he’s not going to let Jackson become a danger to the town, either.

“And while this other pack is in town, you’re all going to act like we’re a united pack, especially when they’re around.”

“What are they doing here?” Lydia asks.

“This is no ordinary pack,” Peter says, stepping further into the room and taking his place on Derek’s left side. “The Alpha Pack is entirely made up of Alphas. They seek out weak packs and either convince the Alpha to kill their entire pack and join them, or they kill the whole pack themselves and take over the territory.”

“So they’re here because they want you to kill all of us?” Isaac says, eyes wide and scared, and Derek almost wishes that were the case, because it would be easier to fight if they knew exactly what Deucalion’s ultimate goal is.

“It’s not quite that straightforward, I’m afraid,” Peter answers. “They’ve delivered a courtship declaration.”

“Courtship? Like...another pack wants to date you?” Scott asks, frowning as though he can’t imagine a world in which that’s a possibility.

“Wait, are you serious? You’re going to let some murder pack come here and wine and dine you?” Erica this time, eyes flashing yellow with anger that Derek doesn’t really understand. He raises his hand again to get all of them to stop so he can explain, but the scent of ozone hits him suddenly and his gaze snaps to the loft door just in time to watch Stiles walk in.

“Seriously?” Stiles says, ignoring Derek to zero in on Peter. “You called me over here to listen to _this_?”

He looks pissed, but Derek can smell the hurt rolling off him, and he has to stop himself from dragging Stiles close and scent marking him until that acrid scent is gone.

“They’re not here to court me,” Derek says instead, doing his best to keep his voice even. “They’re here to court you, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same cliffhanger as last chapter! Sorry about that. I'll try not to be so redundant in future.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of the a tiny minor plot point, I've genderswapped one of the Murder Twins. I just needed one of them to be a girl, but I still needed one of them to be into guys, so sorry, Aiden. You drew the short straw.

Stiles watches the pack leave school together and tells himself it doesn’t bother him that he knows exactly where they’re going. Sure, he could go with them, but it’s not like any of them actually want him there, except apparently Erica. It still surprises him a little that she’s the one out of all of them who came looking for him, but mostly it just makes him sad that things couldn’t have worked out differently for all of them.

The thought of going back to his house to be ignored by his father leaves a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, so instead of pointing the Jeep toward his neighborhood he drives to the town library. He can hang out there and finish makeup work until closing, and with any luck his dad will already be passed out by the time he gets home.

He’s pulling into the library parking lot when his phone beeps with a new text, and Stiles reaches for it and sees it’s from Cora.

_Derek’s pack is the worst. You have to come over and save me._

Stiles rolls his eyes, mostly because she can’t see him to punch him for it. And the thing is, he appreciates that Cora’s trying. Maybe in another life they would have been friends, even. He remembers her being really nice to him when they were kids, even though she was a grade ahead of him, and there have been a couple times since he started learning about all this spark stuff that he’s wished he’d bonded with her instead of Derek.

But he’s not part of the pack, no matter how much she and Peter try to include him, so he just shakes his head and sends her a text that says _sorry your bro has shitty taste in betas_ and reaches for his backpack. Before he can make it out of the Jeep his phone beeps again, then a second later it rings, and Buck 65’s “Zombie Delight” blares in his ears.

“Dude, I’m not coming over,” Stiles says in lieu of a greeting, because he knows exactly why Peter’s calling him.

“Believe me, I completely understand your desire to keep your distance from these fools,” Peter answers, his voice soft like maybe he’s trying not to be overheard. “Unfortunately we’ve got business that affects you directly, and you’ll want to be here for it.” 

“If it’s pack business it’s not my problem,” Stiles says, ignoring the telltale beeping of Cora inundating him with more texts.

“It’s more like ‘you’ business,” Peter says. “I promise I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t important.”

“This is bullshit,” Stiles mutters. “I told Derek that once I helped him find Cora and deal with Kate, we’d go our separate ways.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, and Stiles wonders if Peter’s losing his patience or if he’s just sympathizing with the fact that Stiles is trying to make a clean break from the pack.

“Sadly Derek doesn’t have much control over the current situation. You really need to come hear him out.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten,” Stiles snaps, then he ends the call and thinks about tossing his phone in the back seat. Instead he scrolls through Cora’s messages, most of which are increasingly unflattering descriptions of the betas. Stiles smirks and texts back, _Ericas ok. Boyd 2 I guess. Dont turn your back on the rest._ Then he shoves his phone in his backpack and pulls back out of the parking lot.

It takes just under ten minutes to get from the library to Derek’s place, but when he pulls into the lot he just sits there for a minute looking up at the building. It’s tempting to turn around and leave, to go home, maybe, or else to drive out of town and just keep going until he’s far away from everyone who knows him. But he knows better than to think that would actually work, so instead of running he locks the Jeep from the inside and then closes his eyes and _believes_ himself up to the hall outside the loft door.

He slides the door open just in time to hear Derek telling the pack that they’re being courted, his stomach twisting at the idea of Derek mating with some werewolf and having a bunch of werewolf babies while Stiles is exiled to Ohio. He’s not sure what will happen to his magic if Derek does that, if breaking the bond will save him or if he’ll just slowly lose control. There’s no way for him to break his ties to the land, but the thought of coexisting with the Hale Pack in this town and watching them all go on with their lives like he never existed is almost as bad as imagining Derek mated to some other person.

“Seriously?” Stiles snaps when his gaze lands on Peter, hands shaking with anger at being dragged over here for nothing. “You called me over here to listen to _this_?”

Peter shakes his head, then he nods toward Derek as if to say, ‘hear him out’, and Stiles sighs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“They’re not here to court me,” Derek says, and he’s still talking to the pack, but he’s looking at Stiles like he’s never seen him before. “They’re here to court you, Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles asks, but his question is drowned out by the rest of the pack talking over each other. The loudest is Jackson, of course, demanding to know what any pack would want with ‘the freak’, let alone an Alpha Pack.

“Jackson,” Derek snarls, which is kind of weird, but Stiles is too busy trying to figure out why some other pack would want to court him to worry about what Derek’s problem with Jackson is. Sure, the Garcia Pack seemed to like having him around, and the Fae offered him a place in the Court if he wanted it, but he’s never even met this pack before. They have no reason to want him, other than the fact that he’s a Spark.

“So what’s the big deal?” Erica pipes up, glancing between Derek and Stiles. “Stiles tells them thanks, but he’s already got a pack, and sends them on their way. Problem solved.”

Peter lets out a sigh like he’s completely over it already, eyes on the ceiling like maybe he’s praying for strength. And Stiles knows the feeling, because he’s already told Erica he’s not in the pack anymore, if he ever was, and he wishes she’d just let it go.

“They’re not going to give up that easily,” Derek says, and he’s looking at Stiles again, but for once he’s not glaring like he’s trying to kill Stiles with his brain. “They’re going to use this situation to test the weaknesses in our pack, and if they find us wanting, they might decide to go ahead and wipe us out anyway.”

That’s just great, because it means that once again the fate of the Hale Pack rests in Stiles’ hands. He’s the one this pack allegedly wants to court, like that makes any sense, and if he somehow says the wrong thing and insults them, it will be his fault when they go after Derek.

“I don’t get it,” Scott says, and when Stiles glances over at him he’s wearing his confused frown. “What do they want with Stiles?”

“God, you’re all totally clueless,” Cora mutters. When she rolls her eyes she looks a lot like Peter, and any other time Stiles might tease her about it, but he doesn’t feel all that much like laughing right now. “Don’t you have any idea what it means to be a Spark?”

“Sadly, that’s the trouble with a pack full of bitten wolves,” a new voice says from behind Stiles, and he whirls around to find a man walking through the open door of the loft. He’s tapping a white cane in front of him, sunglasses on and a benign smile on his face. Behind him are two more men and three women, the five of them spreading out to flank the blind guy in what Stiles is uncomfortably aware is a fighting stance.

“They never do know much about tradition,” the blind guy continues, tilting his head and flaring his nostrils in Stiles’ direction, and he takes a few involuntary steps closer to the Hale Pack. “Forgive us for dropping in unannounced, but we were in the neighborhood. My name is Deucalion, and on behalf of the Alpha Pack, I’d like to formally announce our intent to court your Spark.”

Stiles opens his mouth to say he’s no one’s anything, but he decides better and shuts it again without saying anything. He doesn’t think of himself as part of the Hale Pack, but if this Alpha Pack is really here to try to use Stiles to get to Derek, their best bet is to show a united front. So he can play along with Derek and the rest of them long enough to get rid of this latest threat, and then it’s back to his plan to cut his losses and move on.

* * *

As soon as Derek catches the scent of unfamiliar wolves his claws itch to come out. He can feel the wolf pressing forward, demanding to take over, to defend his pack against the invaders in his den. It takes every ounce of self-control he has to stay human, but the last thing he wants to do is give the Alpha Pack a reason to attack before he’s even figured out what they’re really doing in town.

Watching Ennis follow Deucalion into the loft is like a punch to the gut. Derek’s breath leaves him for a moment, and he can tell by the way Ennis smirks at him that he noticed. Kali follows him in, feet bare and claws clicking on the concrete floor, because she still hasn’t learned the fine art of subtlety. Standing next to her is a dark-haired woman with a kinder smile than Derek would have expected from the Alpha Pack, and bringing up the rear are a pair of teenagers, a boy and girl, who look similar enough to be siblings.

“Alpha Hale, please allow me to introduce my pack,” Deucalion says, inclining his head in Derek’s direction even though he can’t see him. “You remember Ennis and Kali, of course, and this is Kali’s mate Julia. She’s been kind enough to serve as our emissary when such a need arises.”

“If you’ve already got an emissary, why are you here courting Stiles?” Derek asks, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, because he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but the last thing he needs is for Deucalion to twist anything he says into a challenge.

Deucalion flashes another one of those smiles that makes Derek think of a shark, but it’s Julia who answers. “I’m a Druid, which comes with its own power, but I don’t think any magic user would turn down the chance to work hand in hand with a Spark.”

“We have other...collaborations to offer, of course,” Deucalion says. “The twins here have recently come of age and they’re both eager to find a mate and settle down. Depending on where Spark Stilinski’s preferences lie, one – or perhaps both – of them would be more than happy to take such a powerful mate.”

“You’d _both_ mate with him?” Scott says, face screwed up like he can’t wrap his mind around the concept. Derek wants to laugh, because Isaac’s been following him and Allison around enough that the idea of a threesome shouldn’t really be such a surprise, but the fact that it’s twins makes everything a little weirder.

Deucalion just shrugs in answer, an amused smile on his face. The twins are grinning behind him, both of them giving Stiles a once-over. It’s enough to make Derek’s skin crawl, and he has to fight hard not to grab Stiles and pull him back behind Derek and Cora where he’ll be safe. But he knows enough etiquette to know how this works; he can’t do anything to insult the other pack, and he can’t make Stiles’ decision for him. He can try to convince Stiles to turn down any more offers of courtship and formally bond with him, but considering everything that’s happened with the pack, Derek’s not sure how easy that’s going to be.

“You can’t just come in here and take Stiles,” Erica says, eyes narrowed as she watches the twins looking him over. “He’s ours.”

“He is an unbonded Spark,” Deucalion corrects her, though there’s an edge to his voice now. “Perhaps your Alpha will teach you bitten wolves more about protocol before we meet again.”

Derek bristles at the slight, but he clamps down on the urge to snarl at the foreign pack. Deucalion is an older, feared Alpha, and Derek knows he’s trying to pick a fight. All he needs is the flimsiest excuse to attack and take their territory, and Derek’s not going to give it to him. Instead he clears his throat and glances over at Peter, watching his uncle nod nearly imperceptibly before he steps forward.

“A meeting we look forward to,” Peter says, “though perhaps not here. Our Alpha’s current living situation is hardly spacious enough for a growing pack. You remember where the Hale property is, surely?”

The thought of the Alpha Pack at the old house doesn’t sit well with him either, but it’s not as though they have a choice. He can’t host formal negotiations here, and anyway he doesn’t want them in the space where he sleeps any longer than strictly necessary. If they have to see this courtship offer through, the best place for it is out in the woods where there’s less of a chance of any human eyes seeing anything they shouldn’t.

It would keep any trouble out of town as well, and that could only work in their favor as far as the Sheriff was concerned. He wishes they had something a little more hospitable than a burnt out house to meet at, but there’s nothing he can do about that right now. So instead he nods decisively and steps up next to Peter.

“It’s settled, then. In three days’ time we’ll meet on the Hale property and Stiles will hear your formal offer of courtship.”

He can see some of his betas gearing up to object or ask questions, so he holds up a hand to stop them. For a long moment Deucalion just stares unseeing in his direction, a bemused smile on his face, but finally he nods.

“Very well. Until then,” he says, giving them an overly dramatic little bow before he turns and sweeps out of the loft with his pack in tow.

Derek waits until he’s sure they’re out of hearing range before he turns to face the rest of the pack. He’s expecting confusion, maybe some fear now that the Alpha Pack has made itself known. What he’s not expecting is anger, especially from Scott. But he’s glaring daggers at Stiles, hands clenched at his sides and his eyes glowing a dangerous yellow.

“You’re actually going through with this?”

“I don’t have a choice, Scott,” Stiles says before Derek can intervene. He sounds exhausted, and Derek hates that he’s being forced into this position. “There are rules about this kind of thing. As long as I’m unbonded, any supernatural creature can make an offer, and I’m expected to answer one way or the other. I don’t have to say yes to any of them, but not everyone who offers is going to be cool about being turned down.”

“But you said you were bonded.”

Derek snaps his surprised gaze to Erica, then back to Stiles in time to watch his ears turn red. His gaze cuts toward Derek, but he catches himself before he actually makes eye contact and looks back at Erica again.

“I said the bond was rejected. So until I break the first bond and choose someone else to bond with, anybody can make an offer and I have to consider it.”

“How do you know all this?” Lydia asks, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Derek expects Stiles to cower under that gaze the way he used to, but instead he just rolls his eyes at her.

“What do you think I was doing in the Fae Realm all that time? I was there for months and they have an amazing library. I learned a lot about supernatural etiquette, among other things.”

“So you just have to bond with someone in the pack,” Scott says, eyes wide and determined as he looks around at all of them as though he’s already working out the best candidates. “Then the Alpha Pack will go away, and you won’t have to worry about anyone else coming along to try to claim you or whatever.”

Instantly Stiles’ expression goes dark, and even Scott is smart enough to take a step backwards. “No,” Stiles snaps, tugging his backpack a little higher up on his shoulder. “I have to go. I’ve still got a bunch of makeup work to get through.”

“Stiles,” Derek says before he can think better of it, taking a few steps forward as Stiles heads for the door. “We need to talk.”

“Is it about what we talked about in Mexico?” Stiles asks, glancing at Derek with something like surprise, and Derek realizes too late that Stiles thinks he’s talking about the message he still hasn’t delivered.

“No, it’s about the pack,” Derek answers, willing himself not to look back over his shoulder at them.

“Then I have nothing to say,” Stiles says, and before Derek has time to so much as blink, he’s gone. Derek knew he was capable of transporting himself from place to place with magic, but this is the first time he’s actually seen Stiles do it. It’s a little disconcerting, having him standing there one minute, then being gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind nothing but the sharp smell of ozone.

“What just happened?” Isaac asks, frowning in the direction Stiles was standing only a few seconds ago.

“Why won’t he bond with one of us?” Scott adds, looking just as confused as when the Alpha Pack showed up.

Derek lifts his gaze heavenward and thinks about praying for strength, but it’s Cora who comes to his rescue. 

“A Spark bond is really hard to break, for one thing,” she says. “And judging by the way you’ve all treated him, there’s no way he trusts any of you enough to bond with you anyway.”

Derek wonders if she’s including him in that assessment. She should, because he hasn’t done any more than the rest of them to prove his trustworthiness to Stiles. In fact, the only one of them who’s proved himself completely trustworthy is Stiles himself, and Derek knows that loyalty is the only reason he’s still hanging around.

“You don’t even know us,” Scott snaps, narrowing his eyes at Cora, and Derek would growl him into submission, but Cora’s already laughing in his face.

“I know enough.”

“Do you know who he’s bonded to?” Erica asks. She shoves Scott out of the way to stand in front of Cora, eyes shining with determination. “Because I’d really like to kick their ass.”

Cora barks out a surprised laugh, and even Peter’s smirking behind her. Derek scowls at both of them, but when Erica glances in his direction he just rolls his eyes and wills himself not to blush.

“It’s Stiles’ business to tell you if he wants you to know,” he says, even though it probably makes him a coward. Still, he can’t see what good it would do to tell them that it’s him Stiles is bonded to, at least not until they get rid of the Alpha Pack and Derek can work on convincing Stiles to stay for good.


	18. Chapter 18

The morning after the Alpha Pack’s appearance is a Saturday, and Stiles manages to sleep in long enough to avoid seeing his father before he goes to work. He hasn’t heard from most of the pack, save a couple texts from Cora asking if he’s okay, and one from Erica reiterating her offer to kick the ass of whoever it is who rejected his bond.

Stiles is tempted to tell her who it is, just to see the look on her face when she realizes whose ass she’s been offering to kick. But that’s too much like admitting that Derek doesn’t want him and he’s never going to, and Stiles can’t bring himself to do it. He doesn’t need the entire pack knowing exactly how pathetic he is, and he definitely doesn’t want any of them telling the Alpha Pack that Derek’s the one who rejected him.

It’s only partly because it’s humiliating. There’s also the fact that Deucalion would likely see it as a weakness to exploit, and Stiles has no doubt that he’ll use whatever information he can find against them. Whether or not Deucalion really wants him for his pack or not, it was still clear during their first meeting that he’s sizing up Derek, and Stiles knows better than to think they can get out of this situation without some kind of fight.

He doesn’t believe for a second that either of the twins actually wants to mate with him, so he’s surprised when his doorbell rings just before noon and he finds himself blinking at the twins themselves.

“Hi,” Stiles says, frowning and glancing past them, but there’s no sign of the rest of the Alpha Pack, or any of the Hale Pack, for that matter. “How’d you know where I live?”

The male twin taps the side of his nose, then he smirks like he’s letting Stiles in on a secret. It’s a little creepy, thinking about them sniffing him out at his home, but Stiles supposes he should be used to werewolves and their lack of manners by now.

“We never got to introduce ourselves yesterday. I’m Ethan, and this is my sister Adrianne.”

“Hi,” Stiles says again, because he’s not really sure what else to say.

“So listen,” Ethan says, flashing a toothy grin, “we know this isn’t really part of the protocol, but since we’ve got three days to kill in town and you’re supposed to be deciding if you could mate with either of us, we thought maybe you’d like to go out tonight, get to know each other a little. There has to be a club or something around here, right?”

“No strings attached,” his sister says, and when she smiles Stiles feels a little less like he’s about to be eaten alive. “We know we’re supposed to have an escort and all that Victorian bullshit. Invite whichever of your packmates you want. Honestly, we’re just pretty sure we’re going to die of boredom hanging around with the others if we don’t do _something_.”

The whole courtship process really is a bunch of Victorian bullshit; Stiles has been assuming it’s a holdover from the days when the supernatural community arranged a lot of marriages, just like human royalty used to. But it’s nice to hear somebody else say it out loud, and Stiles finds himself nodding before he realizes it. “Yeah, I mean, we could all go hang out at Jungle, I guess. I don’t see what the harm would be.”

He hands over his phone so they can program in their numbers, then he promises to text them the address of the club and meet them outside at 9:00. He worries for a few seconds that agreeing to go out with them will be taken as some sign of interest by the Alpha Pack, but on the other hand, if he refused they’d probably take it as an insult.

Stiles sighs and waits until they climb back into their rental car and drive away before he pulls out his phone again, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the number he’s looking for.

“Hey,” he says when the line connects. “I have a problem. Well, it’s more of a situation than a problem, I guess. A breech of etiquette, maybe? Though most of the etiquette could stand to be updated, if you…”

“Stiles,” Cora interrupts, “what happened?”

“Right.” Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to refocus his thoughts. “The Alpha twins just showed up at my door. They want to go out tonight, get to know each other or whatever. They told me to invite some of the pack, but the only one of you I’m really talking to these days is you. Well, you and Peter, but I’m not bringing Peter to a gay club.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Cora says, though she doesn’t elaborate on why. “Do you think they have Deucalion’s permission to be spending time with you?”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t his idea.”

“Okay,” Cora says, like it’s no big deal that he’s asking her to give up her night to play chaperone, basically. “Do you want me to bring any of the others? Derek…”

“Derek doesn’t want to hang out at Jungle,” Stiles says before the mental image has a chance to form in his mind, because he _really_ can’t handle that right now. “I mean, I think it’s just going to be the twins and us, so we probably won’t need any backup, but if you want to invite Erica and Boyd along, you can. I don’t think Erica’s ever been to Jungle before, she’d probably have a good time. Somebody should, right?”

Cora makes a noise that could be agreement, or it could mean she thinks he’s ridiculous. He _feels_ pretty ridiculous, going on a date with a pair of twins he has zero interest in. His only consolation is that he’s pretty sure neither of them are actually interested in him, either; how could they be when they’ve barely had a single conversation? So all this is just some lame power play, and the sooner they get through it the sooner he can go back to figuring out what he’s going to do about the bond situation, since ‘ignore it until it goes away’ doesn’t seem to be an option anymore.

“Okay,” Cora says again. “I’ll text them and see if they’re free tonight. Do you want to pick us up here?”

“Sure, I’ll swing by just before 9:00,” Stiles agrees. He says goodbye and hangs up, then he lets out a heavy sigh and heads upstairs to see if he has anything to wear on a date with twins.

* * *

Derek’s on his way out of the loft to go visit the Sheriff when he hears Cora talking to Stiles. He pauses by the door long enough to hear Stiles rambling about some problem, then finally spitting out that the Alpha Twins showed up at his house. It takes everything in him not to rush over there and check Stiles for injuries. And he knows it’s stupid, because he’s seen what Stiles can do, but a lot of his reactions to Stiles have been pretty irrational lately.

He waits long enough to hear Stiles mention Peter and a gay club before he steps back into the main room of the loft, raising an eyebrow when Cora looks over at him. 

“Do you want me to bring any of the others?” she asks, still looking at him. “Derek…”

That’s as far as she gets before Stiles shuts her right down, and it shouldn’t sting as much as it does to hear that Stiles doesn’t want him there. Of _course_ Stiles doesn’t want him there to watch two other Alphas court him, especially when he’s technically still bonded to Derek.

He shouldn’t be going at all; there are rules about formal courtship, and stepping outside them this way is a breach of etiquette on the Alpha Pack’s part. But Stiles is right that he can’t really refuse. He’d only be playing right into Deucalion’s hands if he did, giving them a reason to declare the Hale Pack and their Spark hostile and bring down war on the entire town. So he’s doing the right thing, calling Cora for backup as well as an escort, and if Derek wishes Stiles felt confident enough with his place in the pack to call him instead, well, that’s Derek’s problem.

A problem he’s going to fix, starting with going to see the Sheriff and convince him not to ship Stiles off to some unsuspecting relative.

He waits until Cora agrees to call Erica and Boyd, then watches as she ends the call. There’s a worried frown marring her features when she looks up at him, and Derek knows exactly how she feels.

“Call Erica,” he says, even though she already said she would. “Tell her to call Isaac too. I want as many of you watching his back as possible. But leave Jackson out of it.”

“Obviously,” Cora mutters, her eyes flashing at just the mention of Jackson’s name. Derek’s not surprised she doesn’t like him; nobody really likes Jackson, not even Lydia, Derek’s pretty sure. But with Cora it’s more about loyalty to Stiles than it is about Jackson’s terrible personality, and it makes Derek wish even more that Cora had been around when he first came back to Beacon Hills to make him see that Stiles was already part of their pack before he went and ruined everything.

“And if you run into any trouble…”

“I’ll call you,” she says. “Don’t worry, Derek. We’ll make sure no one steals your mate away before you manage to get your head out of your ass.”

She’s been a little colder to him since she met the rest of the pack, and he has a feeling she’s regretting leaving Mexico and the Garcia Pack. He can’t even blame her, because the Garcia Pack is a lot like the way their family was before the fire, and now she’s back in Beacon Hills with a bunch of surly teenagers who barely understand what it means to be a pack. Strangely enough it’s Erica who seems to be trying the hardest to hold things together, and Derek’s hoping that spending some time with her and Boyd tonight will help Cora see that the situation’s not completely desperate.

“I’m going to talk to the Sheriff,” Derek says, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes at the change of subject. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

He leaves her on the living room couch, her fingers flying over her phone as she texts someone, and lets himself out of the loft. The trip to the station is too short to give him much time to figure out what he’s going to say to the Sheriff, and when he pulls up in front of the building he’s still not convinced this is the right thing to do. The Sheriff’s been willing to listen to him about the supernatural world and how it relates to his open cases, sure, but Derek has a feeling that same courtesy isn’t going to extend to Derek trying to tell him how to raise his son.

But he has to try, so he forces himself out of the car and into the station. He’s been here enough times lately that the officer on front desk duty just waves him through, and he makes his way back to the Sheriff’s office and knocks on the open door. 

The Sheriff looks up from the file that’s sitting open on his desk, frowning at him for a second before he gestures Derek into the office. “Hale. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Stiles,” Derek says as he closes the door and takes a seat across from the Sheriff.

“Does this have anything to do with where he’s been for the past few days?”

“What did he tell you?” Derek asks, mainly because he doesn’t want to make things any worse by telling the Sheriff the details of Kate’s death and Stiles’ battle with the Berserkers.

“He said he was in Mexico saving you from Kate Argent, which seems pretty impossible considering she’s in a grave in Beacon Hills Cemetery.”

“No...I mean, yes, she was buried, but she wasn’t dead. Apparently when Peter tried to kill her, he turned her instead, and her father somehow orchestrated a rescue and got her out of Beacon Hills and down to Mexico. I went down there to find my younger sister and Kate grabbed me. Stiles followed and saved my life.”

For a few long moments the Sheriff just stares at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, then he runs a hand over his face and looks away. “Aw, crap.”

“Sir?”

“I might have implied that I thought he was lying again. Though the kid’s told so many lies in the past year, I don’t see how he could blame me.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Sending him away isn’t the answer, Sheriff. I understand that you’re angry about being kept in the dark for so long, but Stiles had good intentions.”

“Sending him to stay with his aunt isn’t a punishment,” the Sheriff says, but Derek hears the tell-tale skip in his heart that tells him John doesn’t actually believe that. “I’m his father and I’m doing what I have to do to keep him safe. That means getting him away from all this supernatural business. He just spent two days in another country and I didn’t know about it, for God’s sake.”

“And I can appreciate that sending him somewhere away from the pack seems like the safest choice. But Stiles isn’t just an average high school student anymore. Now that his Spark’s been ignited, he’s tied to the supernatural community in a way that can’t be ignored. A Spark is a prize for many other supernatural creatures, and they’ll come looking for him no matter where he is. At least in Beacon Hills he has the Hale Pack to look out for him.”

The Sheriff stares him down long enough for Derek to start to want to fidget, but he holds his ground and stares right back. He’s been through this before, back when he was being questioned about Laura’s death, and if he didn’t break then there’s no reason for him to break now.

“I’ve gotta say I’m surprised you’re here arguing for keeping him around,” the Sheriff finally says. “My son is under the impression that you don’t want him anywhere near your pack.”

“I know, and that’s my fault,” Derek answers, keeping his voice even. “But it’s not true, and I plan to make sure he realizes it.”

“And why do you want him around exactly? You said he’s considered some kind of prize?”

Derek winces at his own choice of words, but it’s true, so he doesn’t try to take it back. “Sparks are basically limitless magic. All Stiles has to do is believe hard enough in something and he can make it happen. Surely you can understand why that would be attractive to a lot of different types of creatures.”

“What I understand,” the Sheriff says, leaning back and resting his hand on the side where Derek knows he keeps his gun holster, “is that my son is still underage. He’s not a prize to be won, and I’ll make sure anyone who tries gets that message loud and clear.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek says, ignoring the way his ears burn at the implication. Suddenly he wonders if the Sheriff doesn’t have a little magic of his own, because it’s almost like he can see right inside Derek’s head and tell what he’s thinking.

He wonders briefly if he should mention the fact that Stiles is already being courted by another pack, but he knows the Alpha Pack won’t hesitate to kill the Sheriff if he goes after them. Getting his father killed is something Stiles definitely wouldn’t forgive him for, so Derek keeps his mouth shut for once. He doesn’t mention the fact that Stiles is planning to go out with two of the Alphas tonight, and he doesn’t mention the meeting that’s happening out on the old Hale property in two days.

Derek stands up and takes a step toward the door, then another before he stops and turns around. “But some of the supernaturals that come looking for Stiles won’t care about human laws or even consent, and they won’t need to look in a phone book to find out where he lives. You can try to hide him, but his magic will call to them wherever he is. At least while he’s considered part of my pack, he has a fighting chance of keeping from being forcefully bonded. If you send him away there won’t be anyone to look out for him.”

He holds the Sheriff’s gaze long enough to make sure his message has sunk in, then he turns and lets himself out of the office. Stiles might be mad when he finds out that Derek’s been talking to his father again, but it will be worth it if it convinces the Sheriff to keep him close. Close to home and close to Derek, and he’ll worry about why that’s suddenly so important to him once he figures out a way to get the Alpha Pack out of his territory for good.


	19. Chapter 19

When Stiles gets to the loft he reaches out with his magic, feeling out the number of people waiting for him. He recognizes Cora and Derek right away, and there are two more people he’s pretty sure are Erica and Boyd. No one else seems to be around, so he breathes a sigh of relief and heads up the stairs to get them.

Cora’s waiting for him when he reaches the door, and she looks him up and down and wrinkles her nose before she reaches out and grabs his arm in a firm grip. “No. Unacceptable.”

“What?” he says, but he doesn’t try to stop her as she drags him past a bewildered-looking Derek and up the spiral staircase he’s never actually climbed before. He knows this is where Isaac’s room is, and he’s always assumed Derek had an actual room up here apart from the bed he keeps in his living room like the paranoid weirdo he is, but Stiles has never had a reason to see any of it.

So he’s not really prepared for Cora to pull him into a bedroom that looks just a step up from a prison cell, with a bed against one wall and a pile of boxes in the corner he assumes belong to Cora. She marches across the room to a walk-in closet and disappears, then reappears a minute later with an armful of fabric.

“You’re not wearing plaid to go clubbing,” she says, dumping what turns out to be a selection of shirts on the bed and making an impatient motion with one hand. “Come on, off.”

“What?”

Cora rolls her eyes and closes the distance between them, grabbing the lapels of his overshirt and pushing it down his shoulders. “Take off your t-shirt, too.”

“Why am I taking off my clothes?” Stiles asks, blushing at the way she’s manhandling him. He hears a noise downstairs followed by Erica’s high-pitched laugh and blushes even harder, even though none of them can see him.

“Because we’re going out dancing, and even though there’s no way you’re actually going to mate with either of the creeper twins, you could at least try not to look homeless. Now put this on.”

She hands him a forest green henley, but when he pulls it on he’s almost swimming in it. Which isn’t fair, because he’s filled out a lot since all this werewolf business started, but obviously he hasn’t caught up with whoever owns this shirt yet. Stiles has a sneaking suspicion that these are all Derek’s clothes, and maybe this is just Cora’s way of getting Derek’s scent on him before they go hang out with another pack, but he doesn’t ask. There’s a pathetic part of him that kind of likes the idea of smelling like Derek, even if it’s only for show.

“No,” Cora says, wrinkling her nose and handing him a baseball shirt this time. It’s gray with black sleeves, soft against his skin and when he pulls it on it’s not as big on him as he expected it to be. He’s never seen Derek wear it, so maybe he outgrew it and never got around to weeding it out of his wardrobe. Either way, Cora seems to approve, because she smiles and tosses the henley on the bed with the rest of the shirts. “Perfect.”

When they get back downstairs Erica’s leering at him from the couch, which would be weird on its own even if Derek wasn’t scowling like...well, like Stiles just invaded his bedroom and then his wardrobe. Which isn’t even his fault, so Stiles just rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket for his keys. 

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Derek says, voice gruff like he’s forcing himself to say the words. “It’s a breach of etiquette. If you back out they’ll have to respect it.”

“He can’t back out now that he’s all dressed up,” Erica says, crossing the room to slide her arm through Stiles’ and lean in, nostrils flaring as she deliberately scents him. “Plus he smells like you, so they’ll know he’s ours.”

Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes again, mainly because Erica looks so happy and he really does think _somebody_ should have a good time tonight. “Look, it’s just a power play. I’ll show up and call their bluff, they’ll know we’re not intimidated, and everybody can move on to the next head game.”

For a long moment Derek just stares at him, expression intense and almost searching. Then he shuts down whatever emotion he almost let through and turns to Cora. “Go. Wait downstairs. I need to talk to Stiles before you leave.”

“I told you I don’t have anything to say,” Stiles says, but he lets the others leave because if Derek’s determined to have this conversation, he might as well get it over with.

Instead of answering Derek tilts his head like he’s listening for something, and Stiles assumes he’s waiting for the others to move out of easy hearing range before he says whatever it is he wants to say. Probably a lecture about not embarrassing the pack in front of the Alpha twins, or maybe Derek’s just going to tell him he should accept their offer and move on. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if Derek was looking for a way to get rid of him, and maybe his dad’s not moving fast enough for Derek’s taste.

When the others are finally out of earshot Derek turns back to him, and Stiles tells himself he’s imagining the way Derek’s nostrils flare. It’s probably just the cognitive dissonance of having Stiles wearing his clothes, or maybe he’s checking to make sure Stiles still smells enough like pack to fool the Alphas.

“I spoke to your father again today,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t know exactly what happens with his face, but whatever it is makes Derek flinch. Not that he cares, because Derek going behind his back to his dad made the situation with his father ten times worse than it was. “I heard from Peter that he was planning to send you to live with your aunt. All I did was explain to him why that’s a bad idea.”

“Really? I figured you’d be thrilled to have me hundreds of miles away.”

Derek sighs, but before Stiles can tell him where to take his attitude, his shoulders slump a little and he shakes his head. “Look, I’m sorry I went to your father without telling you first. I shouldn’t have done it, I see that now. It’s just that you said that the lying was causing problems between you and I thought if he knew the truth, he’d realize it’s not your fault you were keeping secrets.”

Stiles blinks, then he looks over his shoulder to make sure none of the rest of the pack is waiting around to jump out and laugh at him or something. He’s not sure _why_ they’d be laughing, exactly, but there’s no way Derek Hale is seriously apologizing to him.

“Stiles?” Derek prompts, and he realizes he’s still staring.

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me all at once.”

Derek does roll his eyes this time, but there’s something almost...amused about it, and yeah, Stiles has definitely fallen into some kind of rift between realities or something.

“I don’t know if it did any good, but I explained to him that you’re going to be courted no matter where you are, and at least here you have the pack to look out for you.”

At the mention of the pack Stiles lets out a humorless laugh. “Give me a break, dude. None of them give a damn about me, except maybe Cora. Half of them don’t even like me, and the rest would barely notice if I was gone, you included. So you can drop the act. Just because you felt bad about going to my dad behind my back and did the exact same thing again to try to make yourself feel better, doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

“I didn’t...that’s not…” Derek stammers – actually _stammers_ – and Stiles would laugh if he wasn’t seconds away from screaming.

“Whatever,” he mutters instead, “I have to go. Wouldn’t want to keep the Alphas waiting.”

He turns on his heel before Derek can argue and _believes_ himself down to his Jeep, materializing a few feet away from where Cora, Erica and Boyd are waiting for him.

“That is _so_ cool,” Erica murmurs, but Stiles ignores her and climbs into the Jeep, unlocking the doors for them and ignoring the looks Cora’s giving him from the passenger seat. He can tell she’s dying to ask what Derek wanted, or maybe she heard and she wants to stick up for her brother. Either way Stiles isn’t interested in hearing it, so he just turns the radio up a little louder and points his car toward Jungle.

* * *

Derek knows Stiles is coming to the loft to pick up Cora and the others, so he’s not surprised when he hears the rumble of the Jeep’s engine pulling up. He’s not surprised when Cora flies past him to reach the door before anyone else can, and he’s not even all that surprised when she gets one look at Stiles and drags him upstairs to minimize the damage.

He thinks about stopping her, mainly because he’s not sure how much he wants Stiles’ scent in his bedroom. But he’s not the one sleeping in there right now, so he tells himself it doesn’t matter. Just like it doesn’t matter that he can hear Stiles asking Cora why she’s trying to get him out of his clothes, and when he stubs his toe on the heavy table in the living room it’s just a coincidence.

Erica’s laugh is mean, but he doesn’t think she’s figured out the connection between them, so he lets it go. He can hear Cora making Stiles try on different shirts that Derek is positive belong to him, so he’s not surprised when he reappears wearing an old baseball shirt Derek forgot about. It hasn’t fit him for a long time, but it’s one of the first things Laura bought him when they got to New York, and he hasn’t been able to make himself toss it.

It’s old and soft from countless washings, the scent of Derek worn so deeply into the fabric that it’s recognizable even after being washed and then stored in the bottom of his old duffel bag for over a year. Except now it’s wrapped around another scent, one that Derek knows well after all this time. He’s been close enough to Stiles enough times to memorize his scent by now, but during the times he was close enough to really drink it in, they’ve always had other things to distract them.

There was the time Stiles made him a fugitive, when Derek shoved him around and threatened him enough to make Stiles’ scent flood with fear and defiance. There was the time Kate shot him with wolfsbane, when he and Stiles spent hours together in the confined space of his car, and then later in the animal clinic. But the scent of wolfsbane overpowered everything that time, and the stench of chlorine overpowered everything when Stiles held him up in the pool for hours. So this is the first time Derek’s really experienced their scents together with nothing interfering, wrapped up in one another like they were meant to be.

The thought sneaks up on him from out of nowhere, and he feels his eyes go wide for a second before he schools his features back into his usual blank mask and focuses on the issue at hand. He manages to keep his mind off it while Erica’s teasing Stiles, and even later when he sends the others away and Stiles is standing there in front of him, fierce and brave and dangerous in a way Derek’s tried really hard not to think about since that day in the woods.

“I spoke to your father again today,” Derek says, wincing at the dark look that passes over Stiles’ face. He wants to put some space between them, but he manages to hold his ground and keep talking. “I heard from Peter that he was planning to send you to live with your aunt. All I did was explain to him why that’s a bad idea.”

“Really? I figured you’d be thrilled to have me hundreds of miles away,” Stiles says, his voice sharp, but Derek can hear the hurt behind the words. He can _smell_ it, and he hates himself a little more for being the one to put it there.

“Look, I’m sorry I went to your father without telling you first,” he says, because at the very least he knows he owes Stiles an apology for that. He’d had good intentions at the time, but as usual his good intentions blew up in his face. “I shouldn’t have done it, I see that now. It’s just that you said that the lying was causing problems between you and I thought if he knew the truth, he’d realize it’s not your fault you were keeping secrets.”

For a second Stiles looks a little bewildered, glancing around the loft as though he’s looking for something. When he turns back to Derek he just blinks a few times, cheeks a little flushed and his lips slightly parted in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as distracting as it is. “Stiles?”

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me all at once,” Stiles finally says, and Derek rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite hide the smile that’s threatening to form. He knows they still have a long way to go before they find a way to work together, but the fact that Stiles is still willing to poke fun at him gives Derek hope that it’s possible.

“I don’t know if it did any good, but I explained to him that you’re going to be courted no matter where you are, and at least here you have the pack to look out for you.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say when Stiles lets out a laugh that sounds anything but amused, his eyes going dark and his scent shifting to something sharp and abrasive.

“Give me a break, dude. None of them give a damn about me, except maybe Cora. Half of them don’t even like me, and the rest would barely notice if I was gone, you included. So you can drop the act. Just because you felt bad about going to my dad behind my back and did the exact same thing again to try to make yourself feel better, doesn’t mean anything’s changed.”

“I didn’t...that’s not…” Derek starts, but his tongue is tied, caught between the urge to reassure Stiles that he would definitely notice if he was gone, and the instinct to defend his pack against accusations he knows are true. Or at least Stiles has never been given a reason to think otherwise, and that’s Derek’s fault too.

Before he figures out how to say any of that Stiles is muttering a defeated ‘whatever’, then he’s gone again, and Derek’s left staring at the spot where he was just standing and wondering how that conversation went so wrong so fast. There’s so much more they need to talk about, starting with the fact that Derek wants him to stay and be a real part of the pack, that he doesn’t want him to break the bond and choose someone else. He still doesn’t know if he can give Stiles everything he deserves, but he wants a chance to try to figure it out. He’s not going to get it if he can’t make Stiles listen to reason, though, and if he can’t get his betas in order he’s definitely never going to convince Stiles to stay.

He’s still staring into space when he catches Peter’s scent, and he looks up in time to watch his uncle walk through the still-open loft door and into the living room. Peter looks around as though he’s expecting to see someone else, probably Cora, then his nostrils flare and he turns to Derek.

“Stiles was here?”

“He came to pick up Cora. The Alpha twins came to his house this morning and said they wanted to go out tonight and get to know each other. So he brought Cora along as backup.”

“Just Cora?” Peter asks, and Derek can’t tell from his expression if he’s being judgmental or skeptical that Derek would allow the two of them to go alone.

“Erica and Boyd went too. I told them to call Isaac, but he wasn’t here when they left.”

“And?” Peter says, eyebrows raised like he’s waiting for something, only Derek has no idea what it is.

“And what?”

“And how long are you planning to wait before you follow them?” Peter asks, and when Derek frowns he rolls his eyes. “Please, Nephew, you don’t expect me to believe that you’re just going to allow Stiles to be stolen away by the Alpha Pack without so much as a fight, do you?”

“No,” Derek says, then he realizes what he’s agreeing to and presses his lips together. “No one’s stealing him away, but you know I can’t stop what’s happening. If they’d just sent a letter it would be one thing, but they’re in town. They have the right to be heard.”

The look on Peter’s face tells Derek exactly how he feels about the courting rituals. It’s the same way Derek feels, and he’s pretty sure Stiles feels that way too. It’s an antiquated tradition, and it doesn’t seem fair that a Spark should be forced to entertain any offers of courtship just because he’s not fully bonded. Derek understands now, thanks mostly to Peter, that the bond is what keeps Stiles’ magic stable, and that Derek rejecting the bond is likely why it took so long to manifest. A fresh jolt of guilt hits him whenever he thinks about it, but it’s not like he can do anything to change it now.

If Stiles wants to complete the bond...but the chances of him actually wanting to go through with it after the way he just talked about the pack are pretty slim, so Derek pushes the thought to the back of his mind for now and focuses on the issue at hand.

“I must say, I’m surprised Deucalion is letting his baby Alphas off the leash so soon,” Peter says, his expression turning shrewd, and Derek’s stomach twists at the implication.

“Stiles thinks all this was Deucalion’s idea.”

“Always the clever one, our Stiles,” Peter says, his lips twisting into an almost fond smile for a second before he frowns again. “But his brilliance doesn’t make him infallible, and the fact that they brought a magic user with them is worrying. We have to be on guard at all times until we know what their real goal is, Derek.”

“I know,” Derek answers, and for once he doesn’t even take offense at the fact that Peter’s telling him how to run his pack. The truth is that Derek feels like he’s in way over his head, and he’s not sure anymore if Stiles will be there to hold him above water.


	20. Chapter 20

The music’s so loud when they pull up outside Jungle that Stiles can feel it in his teeth, so he can’t imagine it’s all that comfortable for the wolves. They don’t look like they mind, though; Erica bounces out of the Jeep like she’s been waiting for this all week instead of just a few hours, and even Boyd’s got a little smile on his face when he follows her out and lets her slide her arm through his.

Cora’s already scanning the crowd outside the door like she’s actually Stiles’ bodyguard, and he smirks and follows her toward the entrance. They spot the Alpha twins leaning against the wall in the middle of the line, both of them wearing enough leather to put Derek to shame and looking smug about the fact that Stiles actually showed up.

He nods to both of them, watching as their nostrils flare and they look him over. He doesn’t roll his eyes, even though he’s getting pretty tired of werewolves with zero sense of privacy. This is all a show anyway, just the Alphas flexing their muscles or whatever, so he just introduces everyone and then follows the line until they’re inside the club.

The music’s even louder once they’re in, so Stiles closes his eyes and _believes_ they’ll all be able to hear each other talking. His magic gets put to the test a second later when Ethan leans in to ask what he’s drinking, and Stiles hears him with no trouble at all. 

Somehow Erica manages to snag them one of the big circular booths at the back of the room, Stiles assumes by virtue of scaring off some unsuspecting Jungle patrons. Almost immediately she disappears, dragging Boyd onto the dance floor, and Stiles wants to laugh at the idea of Boyd dancing, but the truth is they look good together. There’s a little twinge somewhere in Stiles’ chest – what could have been, maybe – but he’s not jealous, not really.

Before he can get too maudlin Cora slides into the booth and pulls Stiles in next to her, leaving Adrianne to slide in on his other side. It’s a little weird, sitting there with the two of them, but he does his best to relax and focuses on scanning the crowd around them.

He’s searching the faces near the bar for any sign of Ethan when he spots another familiar face, one he definitely wasn’t planning to see tonight. Scott’s heading straight for him, jaw clenched and eyes determined. Isaac and Allison are trailing in his wake, the former looking bored and the latter looking like she wishes she was anywhere but here.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asks as soon as they’re close enough to hear him, though he has a sinking feeling he already knows the answer.

“Erica called me,” Isaac says, looking around like maybe he’s trying to figure out where she is.

_Of course she did,_ Stiles thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He can’t really blame Erica for treating this like just a fun pack outing, even if the Alpha Twins are tagging along. He’s pretty sure that’s what she wants it to be, and he can’t blame her for that, either. It’s not like Derek’s given them much chance to bond with each other, after all.

“So you’re really going through with this?” Scott asks.

“I told you I don’t have a choice, dude,” Stiles tells him, letting out a tired sigh. “Like it or not, there are rules.”

“But I still don’t get…”

“Scott,” Stiles says, his voice sharpening and offering no room for argument. “We’re not talking about this here. If you guys want to hang out, that’s cool, but if you can’t drop it you can leave.”

Scott scowls, but he lets it go, then he lets Allison guide him into the booth on Cora’s side. And the thing is, it’s not like Stiles likes having to go through all this. It’s not fair that he _has_ to be bonded to someone, but according to everything he’s read, a Spark without a bond will eventually burn up from the inside. Their magic gets unstable, then it goes haywire, then it turns on itself until there’s nothing left.

So it sucks, but it’s better than _dying_ , and sooner or later Scott will realize that. It might even have been good, if Derek hadn’t taken one look at him back when they were kids and decided he was going to hate Stiles forever.

He’s pulled from that depressing thought by Ethan’s arrival. He sets several bottles of beer down on the table, making a point to push one toward Stiles before he slides into the booth next to his sister and smirks across the table at Scott and Isaac. “So many chaperones. I didn’t think we were _that_ scary.”

“It’s not you, dude,” Stiles says without an ounce of his usual humor. “They just don’t get out much.”

The twins smirk and Cora rolls her eyes, but she has her phone out and she’s texting someone. Derek, Stiles assumes, so she can report back to him on which betas showed up and every thinly veiled threat the twins make.

He’s about to say something else to keep the tense silence at the table from getting any worse when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye and looks toward the door. When he sees who just walked in his stomach ties itself in knots, and it’s all he can do not to stand up and walk out and screw the courting etiquette.

“You invited _Jackson_?” he snarls in a tone that would make any wolf proud.

He remembers too late that they’re supposed to be playing Happy Family in front of the Alpha Pack, but at the moment he’s too angry to care. And maybe he should have expected it, considering how much respect the Hale Pack has showed him over the past year, but he’d thought after spelling out for them exactly what his problems were with the pack that they’d at least have the decency to keep Jackson away from him.

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Allison says, which is surprising, considering they haven’t really spoken since that time her grandfather murdered him. “Scott said Derek wanted everyone here, so I called Lydia.”

It should hurt that even after everything Derek’s seen him do, he still thinks Stiles can’t take care of himself. But he’s used to it, just like he’s used to the rest of them treating him like he doesn’t matter.

“Great, thanks. Because I wanted to spend a whole night with that asshole.”

“Stiles, come on, she said she was sorry,” Scott says, arm around Allison’s shoulders and a frown on his stupid face.

“Seriously, it’s not like we didn’t have anything better to do with our night,” Isaac says, and it’s all Stiles can do not to blast him across the room.

“I didn’t ask any of you to come, asshole,” Stiles snaps.

He’s about to suggest they leave and get on with their weird threesome when a hand lands on his forearm, and when he looks over he realizes it’s Adrianne touching him. Which is a little strange, but she’s giving him a sympathetic smile, and she tilts her head toward the dance floor.

“Hey, forget it, we don’t need all these chaperones anyway. Do you want to go dance?”

There’s a scoffing sound and they both look up in time to watch Jackson stop in front of the table, Lydia tucked under one arm. “Trust me, nobody wants to see Spazlinski dance.”

“Jackson, you promised,” Allison says, embarrassed, though whether because she thinks they’re making a scene or because she’s the reason it’s happening, Stiles doesn’t know.

Jackson just rolls his eyes and shoves into the booth next to Isaac. “Whatever.”

Next to him Stiles can hear Cora’s fingers still flying over her phone keyboard, and he wonders what she’s telling Derek. Maybe she’s letting him know how hard they’re all failing at keeping up a united front, or maybe how much ammunition they’re handing over to the twins to take back to Deucalion. And Stiles isn’t going to let the Alpha Pack kill Derek or any of his betas, but maybe he should be taking their courtship offer a little more seriously. Adrianne seems nice, at least, and it’s not like his so-called friends are giving him any reason to stick around.

“Let’s go dance,” he says, covering Adrianne’s hand with his own. She grins and shoves Ethan until he climbs out of the booth and lets them out, her hand small in his as she drags him out onto the dance floor not far from where Erica and Boyd are still plastered together.

* * *

Derek sends Peter out to canvas the town and see if he can figure out where the Alphas are staying. It’s a long shot, but they’ll both feel better if they can keep an eye on Deucalion’s movements, so Peter goes without complaint. Derek still isn’t sure his uncle won’t betray him, but the one thing he knows without a doubt is that Peter won’t betray Stiles.

So he doesn’t worry about his uncle going behind his back to collude with the Alpha Pack, at least not as long as staying on Derek’s side means keeping Stiles from harm. It’s not as comforting a thought as it could be, but it’s what Derek has to work with, so he’ll take it.

He lets himself out of the loft and heads down to his car, intent on driving past the club just to make sure things seem calm. Or as calm as they can be on a Saturday night in Beacon Hills’ one gay bar, which also happens to be the place with the most lax security when it comes to checking IDs.

He doesn’t have any plans to go inside, because the last thing he wants to be is the older guy hanging out with a bunch of high school kids in a club, and anyway he’s pretty sure Stiles wouldn’t welcome his presence. But his phone beeps as he’s circling the block around the club, and when he sees it’s a text from Cora he finds a parking spot and pulls over.

_Jacksons here_ is all it says, but it’s enough to make Derek’s eyes bleed red.

_Why?_ is all he sends back, even though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

He’d been way too optimistic in hoping that after their last pack meeting, Jackson would just stay away for a while. He’d been hoping Jackson was pissed enough to lie low and lick his wounds, maybe complain to Lydia about how he doesn’t want a pack before his fear finally got the best of him and he crawled back to Derek.

But luck’s never been on Derek’s side, and he knows better than to hope for anything. So he’s not all that surprised to hear that Jackson showed up at the club, and he’s not even that surprised when Cora’s next text arrives and he learns how Jackson heard about the outing in the first place.

_Allison invited Lydia_ it says, followed almost instantly by _Stiles dancing w/girl twin right now but hes pissed_ , then _Jackson being complete dbag already_

Derek rolls his eyes and kills the Camaro’s engine before he climbs out and locks the car. _I’m outside, be right in_ , he sends back before he shoves his phone in his pocket and heads for the line outside the front door. It’s not that long, but the bouncer gets one look at him and waves him forward anyway. Normally Derek hates that kind of unnecessary attention, but he’s never been above using his looks when it gets him what he wants, so he doesn’t argue.

The music is loud enough to make him wince, and he wonders how the betas have stood it for as long as they have. He’s tempted to turn around and go right back outside where it’s not quite as deafening, but that won’t solve the Jackson issue, so Derek steels himself and scans the crowd for any sign of his betas.

He spots Erica and Boyd first, her head thrown back as she laughs and Boyd’s eyes shining as he watches her with what Derek assumes is fondness. He’s glad they’ve got each other, but the whole point of coming out tonight was to watch Stiles’ back, and it doesn’t look to him like they’ve got eyes for anything but each other. 

Near the back of the club he sees his sister sitting in a booth with the male twin on one side and Isaac, Scott and Allison on the other. Lydia and Jackson are standing a little further away talking to that kid Stiles once made Derek strip for. As he watches the male twin stands up from the table, not even bothering to excuse himself before he’s stalking onto the crowded dance floor. Derek keeps his gaze trained on the Alpha until he slots himself in behind a tall guy wearing dark clothes and dancing with a girl, his hands on the guy’s hips and moving in time with the couple.

The guy looks over his shoulder like he wasn’t expecting someone to sneak up on him, and Derek’s stomach lurches when he realizes it’s Stiles. Stiles who’s wrapped around one Alpha while the second wraps around him, and Derek knows him well enough to guess that if he went over there right now and stuck his face in Stiles’ neck, he’d smell embarrassed and a little turned on.

It’s tempting to go over there and do it, just to show those other Alphas exactly who Stiles belongs with, but he knows the reaction he’d get. Instead he turns back toward his betas, jaw clenched as he watches Jackson say something to his friend and then jerk his chin in Stiles’ direction. Lydia’s lips are pursed as though maybe she doesn’t approve of whatever Jackson’s saying, but Derek doesn’t know her well enough to be sure.

Either way, Jackson’s friend watches Stiles dancing for a few beats, then he turns back to Jackson to smile and slap him on the chest. Whatever he says is too soft for Derek to hear over the pounding music, but a second later he’s making his way toward the dance floor alone.

Part of Derek thinks he should follow the kid, but instead he heads for Jackson where he’s still looking smug as he watches his friend walk away. He doesn’t turn to look at Derek until he’s almost in front of him, but when he realizes who’s suddenly blocking his view there’s a gratifying flash of fear in his eyes.

“Why are you here, Jackson?”

“Allison said you wanted all hands on deck,” Jackson lies smoothly, his heart staying steady but his gaze cutting to the dance floor. “Just trying to be a team player, like you said.”

Derek rolls his eyes, then he reaches out and closes his fist around the front of Jackson’s designer shirt to yank him forward. “Try again.”

“I swear, Derek, we just showed up because Allison called,” Jackson says, but now his heart’s pounding so hard Derek can hear it over the music. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“I’m going to tell you this one more time, Jackson. No insults, no mocking Stiles or any other member of this pack, not even if you think the Alphas aren’t around. If I hear that you’ve put one claw out of line, you won’t like the consequences. And when all this is over, we’re going to have a long talk about your place in the pack. Understand?”

“Seriously? All this over Stilinski?”

“You don’t have to like it or even agree with it, but if you want to be part of this pack, you’re going to respect my rules.”

Jackson’s features twist into a sneer, but he drops his head to show his neck and nods minutely.

“Good,” Derek says, letting go of him abruptly enough to send him stumbling back a step. When Jackson rights himself Derek straightens his shirt, brushing away imaginary wrinkles where his fist had been. “Now whatever you and your friend are up to, it ends right now. I don’t want to hear from Deucalion that one of my betas disrespected…”

He trails off as he glances back over at the dance floor, watching the male Alpha grinding with Jackson’s friend now instead of Stiles. To his credit, Stiles doesn’t look that upset about it, but the female Alpha looks like she’s thinking about becoming an only child. Derek’s pretty sure that whatever’s happening out there isn’t part of Deucalion’s plan, not when one of the wolves allegedly courting Stiles is clearly much more interested in another guy.

“This was your plan?” Derek asks, turning back to Jackson and letting his eyes flash red.

Jackson’s jaw sets in a stubborn line, but he keeps his eyes averted. “I just told Danny that Stilinski had his hands full and he could use a little help, that’s all.”

“After you insulted Stiles in front of both Alphas,” Derek reminds him, and when Jackson flinches he knows it’s true. “New plan. You’re going to stay away from the pack until the Alphas are gone, understand? I don’t want you anywhere near Stiles or any of the others until this is taken care of.”

“I don’t see why…”

“ _Go_ ,” Derek snarls, teeth bared, and Jackson swallows whatever he was going to say and scrambles backwards. He grabs Lydia’s arm too hard and pulls her along with him, the two of them whispering furiously at each other as they head for the exit.

Derek considers following them to make sure they’re really leaving, but he’s fairly sure he scared Jackson enough to make him listen for a little while. He’s not sure how long it will last, but it should be good enough to get rid of him for the rest of the night. Derek lets out a breath and turns back toward his betas, but they’re all staring toward the dance floor. His stomach churns and he considers just turning around and walking out, but instead he turns and braces himself for the sight of Stiles and the female Alpha getting even closer, or maybe the male Alpha grinding against his ass again.

Instead he finds Stiles and the female Alpha still moving together, but neither of them are looking at each other. Instead they’re both staring toward the edge of the dance floor where the male Alpha and Jackson’s friend are pressed together, but now their hands are roaming and it looks like they’re having a contest to see who can shove whose tongue the furthest down the other’s throat.

Derek snarls at the disrespect, both to his Spark and his pack, but he holds back the shift itching just under his skin as he strides across the club toward Stiles.


	21. Chapter 21

The thing is, Stiles isn’t a great dancer, but he’s not the spaz Jackson makes him out to be. So okay, sometimes he’s not sure what to do with his arms, and sometimes his body wants to move to a rhythm that’s just slightly off from whatever song is playing. But it’s not hard to put his hands on Adrianne’s waist when she drapes her arms around his neck, and it’s easy enough to move his hips in time with hers when she starts to sway.

Feeling someone press up against his back is a little startling, but when he glances over his shoulder to find Ethan smirking at him, he tries to relax and just go with it. It’s not the guy thing that bothers him, obviously, considering how long he’s been at peace with his bisexuality. It’s not even the fact that he’s currently serving as the filling in a twin sandwich, though when he stops to think about that later he won’t be able to decide if it’s more hot than weird.

The part of all this that’s making him tense isn’t that they’re twins or that one’s a guy, it’s that they’re werewolves. Not even just werewolves, they’re both _Alphas_ , and he knows exactly how precarious this whole situation is. He knows they could take any excuse to claim the Alpha Pack’s been slighted and use it as a reason to bring down war on his town. And that’s the last thing Stiles wants, because he’s trying to break away from the pack, not get drawn even further into their bullshit.

But for right now they’re not Alphas and Spark, at least not technically. They’re just a group of kids out to have a good time, and if Stiles doesn’t let himself think about the fact that it’s all an act, he can almost believe they really are interested. That’s what it feels like when Ethan grinds against him, and when Adrianne wraps her arms a little tighter around his shoulders and flashes a toothy smile.

And maybe it’s pathetic to enjoy the attention when he knows it’s not real, but he can’t help thinking how nice it is to feel _wanted_ for once. Even if they only want him for his magic, at least he finally has something to offer that’s considered valuable. Maybe the Hale Pack never appreciated all the blood he’s shed for them or the endless hours of research and planning, but that doesn’t mean the entire supernatural world thinks he’s useless.

He’s just getting used to the feeling of wandering hands and the firm press of another body against his back when he hears someone say his name, and he looks over to find Danny smiling at him. Or smiling at Ethan, more accurately, even though he’s talking to Stiles.

“Hey, Stiles, who’s your friend?”

Stiles swallows a sigh and doesn’t look over at the pack, mainly because he doesn’t trust himself not to put Jackson through a wall if he sees his smug expression. He has no doubt that Jackson sent Danny over here; that’s the only reason Danny would ever willingly talk to him in public, and he’s certainly not here to ask Stiles for the next dance.

“Danny, this is Ethan and his sister Adrianne. Guys, this is Danny. He’s one of Jackass’ friends.”

“Hey,” Ethan says, smirk firmly in place, and it’s obvious he likes what he sees. Not that Stiles blames him; Danny’s a good-looking guy, what with the smile and the dimples and the easy confidence. 

Beside him Adrianne makes a dismissive noise, and when Stiles glances over at her she’s sort of glaring at her brother, but all she says is, “I don’t think much of your taste in friends.”

Danny glances over long enough to grin at her. “Jackson’s bark is worse than his bite.”

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Stiles says under his breath, and when Adrianne laughs he grins back at her.

“So it looks like your dance card’s pretty full,” Danny says, gaze back on Ethan. “Can I take this one off your hands for a while?”

“He’s not interested,” Adrianne says, shooting a significant look in Ethan’s direction. Ethan nods reluctantly, but it’s pretty clear to Stiles that he _is_ interested. Very interested, Stiles is guessing, and he’s not going to cockblock the guy just because of some stupid, ancient courting ritual.

“Dude, it’s cool,” Stiles says, ignoring Adrianne’s low growl. “We’re all just here to have fun, right? Go dance with Danny, mingle with the locals or whatever.”

“You sure?” Ethan asks, but he’s already pulling away.

“Yeah, totally,” Stiles says, and he means it, mostly. It’s not like he’s interested in Ethan – he’s not interested in Adrianne either, for that matter – but it was kind of nice to pretend, just for a little while, that they were interested in _him_. He knows better, though, so he smiles and waves them off when Danny tosses a thanks over his shoulder and drags Ethan away.

“I’m going to kill him,” Adrianne mutters, half to herself, and Stiles sighs and turns back to her.

“Look, we both know you’re not really here to court me, and neither is your brother. If you’re worried about Deucalion, he won’t hear about this from me, okay?”

“Thanks,” Adrianne says, flashing a sheepish grin. “You know, I wasn’t sure what to expect when Duke told us where we were going, but you’re actually a pretty cool guy. It wouldn’t be so terrible having you around, if you decided to join us.”

Stiles laughs and opens his mouth to say...what, he’s not sure. _Thanks_ seems a little insincere, considering he has no plans to join them, and he’s not going to lie about his intention to refuse their courtship offer. In the end he’s saved from coming up with an answer when Adrianne’s grip on his arm tightens and she lets out another low, rumbling growl. He turns to follow her gaze just in time to watch Danny grab Ethan and plant a hard kiss on him, and even though Stiles knows how much trouble this could spell for Ethan, he can’t help thinking it’s kind of hot.

“That idiot’s going to get us both killed,” Adrianne hisses, sounding more like a werecat than a wolf. Stiles wisely chooses not to point it out; instead he reaches up to take the hand that’s gripping his arm, easing her fingers away from Derek’s shirt before her claws can do any permanent damage.

“Deucalion’s that serious about courting me?” he asks, frowning at the thought. “Because no offense, but I don’t really want to be part of a pack that would murder its own members.”

She opens her mouth to answer, but before she gets the words out her eyes go wide and she takes a step back. Stiles turns to look at whatever spooked her and spots Derek, eyes bleeding red around the edges like he’s barely holding on to his control. Instead of veering towards Stiles he stalks straight over to Danny and Ethan, and Stiles scrambles after him with Adrianne on his heels.

They reach the edge of the dance floor in time to watch Derek wrap a hand around the scruff of Danny’s neck and yank him backwards, practically lifting him off his feet, and any other time Stiles might have found it funny. But there’s nothing funny about the fury in Derek’s eyes, or the way his voice slurs just a little around the fangs he’s not quite holding back when he snarls, “Leave.”

“What the...aren’t you Stiles’ cousin?” Danny asks, a confused frown marring his features, but he doesn’t step away from Derek because he has no idea how much danger he’s in right now.

Stiles surges forward and wedges himself between them, hands on Derek’s chest to try to push him back even though it’s like trying to move a brick wall. “Dude, chill. I told them it was fine. I don’t care, you know that.”

“Stiles, what the hell?” Danny says from behind him, still confused but bleeding into worried now.

“Danny, for the love of God, shut up,” Stiles hisses without looking at him. “I’ll explain later, okay? But you need to go right now.”

For a second it looks like Danny might argue, like he might actually be concerned for Stiles’ safety, but then he shrugs it off with a frown. “You know what, whatever. This is too weird for me.”

A minute later he’s gone, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he goes, probably to call Jackson and report on how weird Stiles and his ‘cousin’ are being. They wait until he’s out of earshot, but instead of rounding on Stiles and ordering him home as well, Derek turns on Ethan.

“This is how you show respect for my Spark?” he snarls, and Stiles refuses to allow his heart to skip on the word ‘my’. It doesn’t mean anything, just Derek playing his part, but it’s hard to remember that when Derek’s practically wolfed out in public and challenging another Alpha for his honor.

“He said he didn’t care,” Ethan snarls back, but there’s a little fear in his eyes, like maybe he hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they did.

“And your Alpha? Will he care?” Derek asks, a malicious glint in his eye. And yeah, Stiles gets where he’s coming from. He probably thinks they can use this as an excuse to refuse Deucalion’s offer and get him to leave town, and with a normal pack he’d be right. But Stiles heard the real fear in Adrianne’s voice when she realized what Ethan was doing, and he has a feeling Deucalion would just kill Ethan for the insult and offer up his twin as the sensible alternative.

“Derek, back off,” Stiles says, voice full of steel and it startles Derek enough to look over at him for the first time. “I already promised Deucalion wouldn’t find out about this, not from us.”

Derek’s eyes narrow at the challenge, but before he can say anything Adrianne’s stepping around them to grip her brother’s arm. “Look, we should go. We’re so sorry for the insult, Stiles. It was fun getting to know you a little.”

“Are you guys going to be okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Adrianne says, though she doesn’t sound like she really believes it. “We’ll see you in a couple days.”

They’re not even gone a full minute before a hand closes around his arm, and the next thing Stiles knows he’s being dragged past the dance floor and down a narrow hall he can only assume leads to the bathrooms. Under any other circumstances he wouldn’t mind being dragged into a dark space with Derek, but when he looks up and sees glowing red eyes, he knows this is a conversation he’s not going to enjoy.

* * *

Derek’s willing to admit that grabbing Jackson’s friend like a pup and dragging him off the twin isn’t his finest moment. He’s not proud of the fact that he lost control that way, or that he practically challenged another Alpha right out in the open. Still, he couldn’t just let the insult pass, and judging by the way the twins ran out of the club with their tails tucked between their legs, they know exactly what they did wrong.

As soon as they’re gone he’s dragging Stiles away from the crowd, away from the eyes of the pack and into a dark corner where Derek can make sure he’s okay. He’s still wearing Derek’s shirt, still wrapped up in both their scents, but Derek can smell the Alphas on him now too, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from pressing Stiles into the wall and rubbing his scent all over him.

If Stiles were his...but he’s not, not in any way that counts, so Derek takes a deep breath and closes his eyes until the red bleeds back out of his vision. When he opens them again Stiles is watching him, and just for a second there’s a longing in his expression that makes Derek’s chest ache. A second later it’s gone, and Stiles sets his jaw like he’s bracing for a fight.

“You’re not telling Deucalion about this.”

“Stiles, you can’t still be thinking about going forward with a courtship,” Derek says, teeth gritted against the urge to shake him until he sees reason. “They just insulted you in front of nearly our entire pack.”

“ _Your_ pack,” Stiles corrects him, eyes narrowing like he’s waiting for Derek to argue with him.

“I know you don’t think of yourself as pack,” Derek says, holding up a hand when Stiles opens his mouth to interrupt. “And you’ve got good reason, I get that. Erica told me what you said to all of them, and you’re right. None of them know how to _be_ pack because I never taught them. But you’ve always got a place in my pack, if you want it.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Stiles spits back at him, and now he looks hurt and furious. “You’re the one who told my father I’m not part of your stupid pack.”

“What? I never said that,” Derek insists, his mind racing as he tries to figure out how he could have given the Sheriff that impression. He knows Stiles has been assuming for way too long that he doesn’t have a place in Derek’s pack, and he knows he’s part of the reason for that, but he’s just as sure he’s never denied Stiles’ place, and definitely never to his father.

“Yeah? Did you also not tell my dad that I’m the reason for Scott being bitten and for basically the entire supernatural shitshow that’s been raining down on us ever since? Because he says you did.”

“He…” Derek pauses, biting back his initial denial, because it’s not going to do him any good to call Stiles’ dad a liar. Even though he thinks the Sheriff’s reaction to all this has been disappointing at best, he’s still Stiles’ family, and he won’t appreciate Derek pointing out that maybe his father has ulterior motives for the way he’s overreacting to the knowledge that his son is magic. “He must have misunderstood. Neither of us said anything like that to him.”

Stiles slumps, some of the fight draining out of him, and Derek wishes he’d just shut up and taken the blame. He doesn’t want Stiles feeling like his own father is trying to get rid of him, but more and more that’s what it’s starting to sound like. Maybe he’s just doing it because he thinks it’s the only way to keep Stiles safe, but it’s pretty clear that Stiles doesn’t believe that.

“I really think he just wants you safe,” Derek says anyway, because he can’t stand to see the defeated look on Stiles’ face.

“Do you know how tired I am of people thinking they know what’s best for me?” Stiles says, half to himself.

“Yes,” Derek says, because he gets it. He knows what it’s like to feel underappreciated, just like he knows better than anyone how disastrous it can be to try to reach for something more. “Look, you don’t have to do any of this. We can tell Deucalion that the insult to you nullifies the courtship offer. He has to respect that.”

“Don’t you get it?” Stiles says, sounding more exhausted than Derek’s ever heard him be. “If we tell him what happened tonight, he won’t call off the courtship. He’ll just punish Ethan, maybe even kill him, and claim he’s ‘making it right’ or whatever. Then he’ll insist that Adrianne hasn’t done anything wrong, and if we try to push the issue he’ll find an excuse to declare war.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do, Derek, Adrianne just told me that’s exactly what would happen.”

“So now you trust the word of some stranger over me?” Derek asks, and he doesn’t mean to sound so hurt, but that’s how it comes out anyway.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Stiles snaps, eyes narrowing again and shoving uselessly at Derek’s chest. “All I’ve ever done is trust you, and what did it get me? I’ve got a fucked up bond and a bunch of ‘friends’ who think I’m a joke. I trusted you when I was too young and stupid to know better, and you threw it right back in my face. So don’t even try that shit with me, asshole.”

Derek’s heart clenches at the raw hurt in Stiles’ eyes, but he can’t help bristling a little at the accusation. “I was just a kid too. I had no idea what was happening.”

“And you think I did?” Stiles demands, but before Derek can answer he shakes his head and looks away, blinking rapidly a couple times. “I was seven, Derek. I didn’t know magic was real, let alone that I had any. All I knew was that there was this cool, older boy and I wanted to be around him. It was just a stupid little kid crush, I didn’t know it meant anything. But for whatever reason you decided you hated me on sight, and nothing’s changed since.”

“I don’t hate you,” Derek says, forcing the words out even though he wants to close off, wall himself back up where he doesn’t have to feel any more hurt or guilt or regret. “I never hated you. I was just young and dumb and my friends were laughing at me, and I wanted them to stop.”

“So that’s why you never shut down the pack when they call me a spaz or worthless, huh? Just want to fit in with the cool kids?”

He shoves Derek again, and this time Stiles manages to catch him off guard. Derek stumbles back a step or two, enough for Stiles to slip past him and disappear down the hall and into the crowd. For a second he considers going after him, but the truth is he doesn’t really have an answer to the question. He doesn’t know why he never told Jackson to stop, or why he never bothered to figure out what was happening with Isaac and Scott.

The truth is he didn’t _want_ to know, because knowing meant caring, and he hasn’t let himself care about anything but survival for a long, long time. He’s never agreed with any of the things Jackson said, but until yesterday he’s never bothered to make him shut up, because Stiles always has a sharper comeback than anything Derek might say, so he assumed it didn’t bother Stiles. He never paid attention to the gulf between Stiles and the rest of the pack until it was already too wide to cross.

Derek lets out a breath and heads back out into the pulsing music and the crush of bodies, making his way over to the booth where the pack’s still sitting so he can let Cora know that Stiles is gone and she’ll have to find another ride home if she wants to stay.

When he gets there they’re all staring at him, identical wide-eyed expressions on every face save his sister’s. “What?”

“He’s bonded to _you_?” Erica says, eyes flashing yellow, and Derek forces himself to ignore the challenge he knows she doesn’t really mean.

“How…” he starts, gaze cutting over to Cora, but she just shakes her head.

“I think Stiles cast some kind of spell when we got here, so we could all hear each other without shouting,” she explains. “He probably forgot about it while you were arguing, or else he didn’t realize it would still let us hear you from so far away.”

“You really don’t hate him?” Scott adds, frowning suspiciously at Derek. “Because you act like you hate him.”

“To be fair, he acts like he hates all of us most of the time,” Isaac adds, smirking when Derek glares at him. "I rest my case."

Derek sighs and runs a hand over his face, breathing deep to stop himself from snarling at all of them, because the truth is that he hates himself more than he could ever hate any of them. 

“Look, just be at the loft tomorrow by lunch time. We need to start acting like a real pack and fast, or Deucalion’s going to tear us all to shreds. And nobody call Jackson,” he adds with a significant look in Allison’s direction. “I told him to stay away from the pack until the Alphas are gone. I don’t know what everyone’s problem with Stiles is, but anyone who can’t get over it is going to find themselves looking for a new pack. Got it?”

Scott looks like he wants to argue, probably to defend Allison’s honor, but for once he decides to bite his tongue. The rest of them mostly look chastised, but Cora’s smiling at him, so Derek figures all the talking he’s doing tonight is worth it.

“I’m going home,” he says to her. “Do you want a ride or are you staying?”

“Can we get food on the way?” she asks, but she’s already climbing out of the booth. “I want burgers.”

Which is how Derek finds himself at the all-night diner with most of his pack, all of them laughing and Cora pressed up against him like she’s not regretting her decision to leave her old pack quite as much anymore. And it’s nice, but Derek can’t help feeling like something’s missing. He swallows a sigh and reaches for his phone, opening a new text and staring at it for a long time before he finally just types _I’m sorry_ and presses send before he can change his mind.


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles wakes up to a text from Derek, which is weird, since normally getting Derek to text him more than a one-word answer to a question is like pulling teeth. Granted, the text is only two words, but it’s the second apology he’s gotten from Derek, so it feels pretty big. Still, he has no idea how to answer. He can’t just say ‘it’s okay’, because there’s nothing about any of this that’s okay. But he doesn’t really blame Derek, no matter what he said last night, so in the end he settles for a quick ‘thanks’ and spends the rest of the morning trying not to think about Derek at all.

Thinking about Derek means remembering all the things he said last night, and if he starts thinking about that he’s going to start feeling guilty. Which isn’t even fair, because Stiles had a right to say all that stuff. He has a right to be pissed, even if he doesn’t blame Derek for rejecting the bond, exactly. But he can tell Derek’s trying, even if he doesn’t really seem to know what he’s doing, and there’s a part of Stiles that can appreciate the effort. It’s not enough for him to change his mind and pledge his loyalty to the Hale Pack, not when the rest of them still treat him like garbage, but after spending so many years assuming Derek hates him, it’s kind of nice to hear that he doesn’t.

He’s just finishing breakfast when his phone beeps with an incoming text alert, and he slides it out of his pocket to see Scott’s name on the screen. Stiles is about to open the message when the doorbell rings, and he frowns and reaches out with his magic to see if he can figure out who it is.

The energy on the other side of the door feels supernatural, even a little familiar, but he doesn’t think it’s anyone from the Hale Pack. The only one of them he can think of who might show up is Erica, anyway, or possibly Cora, checking to make sure he’s okay after last night. So he pulls the door open slowly, bracing himself for whatever’s standing on his porch, only to find himself blinking at Ethan.

There’s a huge gash down one side of his face and he’s holding one of his arms awkwardly, like maybe it’s been broken. His lip is split and he’s looking down at his feet, nowhere near the same cocky guy Stiles hung out with the night before.

“Holy shit, dude, are you okay?” Stiles asks before he can stop himself.

“Yeah,” Ethan says, but he sounds anything but. “Alpha wounds, you know, they take longer to heal.”

“But you’re an Alpha too,” Stiles says, frowning. “Shouldn’t that help?”

“It does,” Ethan answers darkly, which makes Stiles wonder exactly what he looked like last night if this an improvement. “Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night.”

“Did Deucalion send you over here to apologize?” Stiles asks, glancing behind Ethan like maybe the rest of the Alpha Pack is lurking around somewhere to make sure he fixes his mess. “How did he even figure it out?”

“He smelled that guy on me,” Ethan says. “Then he used his Alpha Voice to make me tell him what went down. Duke’s really powerful, there’s no way to resist when he uses his Voice.”

Stiles nods, even though he doesn’t really get it. He’s pretty sure if Derek ever tried to Alpha Voice him, Stiles would just laugh in his face. “Look, you don’t owe me an apology, okay? I meant it when I said it was fine with me.”

“Still, it was an insult,” Ethan says. “I just...I kind of got the impression that you were more into Adrianne, you know? And I figured I could give you two some one-on-one time that way, let you work it out.”

“Well, thanks, I guess, but it definitely wasn’t necessary. Don’t get me wrong, your sister’s cool and I like her fine, but I’m really not looking for a mate.”

Ethan frowns, like maybe he’s confused about why anyone wouldn’t be looking for a mate. “But don’t you _have_ to bond with someone? Before, you know…”

“Before my Spark goes crazy and burns me up from the inside, yeah,” Stiles interrupts. “I’ve already got a bond.”

“But…”

Stiles sighs and wishes he’d just ducked out the back door when Ethan rang the bell. “It’s complicated, but it’s enough to keep me from losing control. Look, I’m glad you’re okay and all, but Derek was pissed last night, so it’s probably not a good idea for you to be here.”

“Sure, I get it,” Ethan says, flashing a smile that looks almost regretful.

It’s weird, and he’s not sure if he believes it, but in the end it doesn’t really matter. Tomorrow both packs will meet up at the Hale House, and Stiles will turn down their courtship offer, and then Deucalion will either declare war or the Alpha Pack will go home. Either way they’ll be leaving Beacon Hills without Stiles, so it doesn’t matter what Ethan thinks.

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” Stiles asks, glancing at the angry-looking gash on Ethan’s cheek again.

“Yeah, Duke’s calmed down some,” Ethan says with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, right? You can see for yourself then.”

“Sure, tomorrow,” Stiles says. He watches as Ethan climbs down the porch steps, then glances back over his shoulder to wave one more time. Once he’s gone Stiles shuts and locks the front door with a sigh. He’s halfway up the stairs to his bedroom when he remembers Scott’s text, but he’s had enough close calls on the stairs to stop him from pulling his phone out until he reaches the relative safety of the second floor.

He’s fishing for his phone as he reaches his bedroom, pushing open the door and freezing when his magic alerts him to a presence in the room. Stiles glances up, half expecting to find Derek glowering at him, but all he sees is a blur of motion and a flash of red eyes, then a sharp prick in his neck. He doesn’t even have time to call up his magic before he goes limp in a strong grip, and a second later all he knows is darkness.

* * *

Scott’s the last of the pack to wander into the loft just before noon, eyes glued to his phone as he types out a text. When he’s done he lets out a frustrated sigh and looks up, glancing around at the others. “Has anybody heard from Stiles?”

Derek watches them all glance at each other, identical frowns of confusion on their faces.

“No,” Isaac says, “why would we?”

“He texted me this morning,” Derek offers before he can stop himself. He feels a little smug about it when Scott flashes him an annoyed look, but he wipes the smirk off his face before it can really surface.

“Great, so he’s still ignoring me.”

“Did you expect any different after last night?” Cora asks, arms folded over her chest and raising an eyebrow when Scott scowls at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cora sighs, then she rolls her eyes like she’s totally over it, and Derek can’t really find it in himself to blame her. “It _means_ that you started an argument the second you showed up, then your sidekick there told Stiles that none of you even wanted to be there to begin with. I don’t even know why you bothered to show up. It sure as hell wasn’t for Stiles.”

“He’s my best friend,” Scott insists, but he doesn’t even sound like he believes it anymore.

“Maybe so,” Cora agrees with a shrug, “but I doubt you’re his. Honestly, I’m not sure Stiles even _has_ any friends. I’ve certainly never seen him with any. And don’t even try to tell me you’re his friends, because as far as I know none of you has even apologized for being complete jerks to him.”

“Why should we?” Isaac says. “He’s just a human, it’s not like we need him.”

“Allison’s just a human. Stiles is a Spark,” Derek reminds them all, red starting to bleed into his vision when Isaac lets out a scoff.

“So you keep saying, but where’s all this amazing magic he can supposedly do? I haven’t seen any of it.”

“He saved Derek’s life in Mexico,” Cora answers, her voice as sharp as the claws starting to surface. “He killed two Berserkers, which are basically undefeatable, according to my old pack. He kicked Jackson’s ass without even trying, according to Erica.”

“He killed Kate,” Derek adds in a quiet voice, even though it was technically their mother’s ghost who killed Kate. If it wasn’t for Stiles she wouldn’t have been able to break the veil between the worlds, so as far as he’s concerned Stiles deserves the credit for that too.

“Peter killed Kate,” Allison says, chin up like she’s daring Derek to disagree.

He shakes his head anyway, glancing at Cora before he continues. “Peter _tried_ to kill Kate, but in the end he just turned her. Gerard dug her up, or maybe he got to her before she was even buried, I don’t know. Either way she survived and became a werejaguar. She was down in Mexico waiting for Cora to leave her pack and come looking for me so she could take another member of my family.”

He pauses long enough to let those words sink in, looking around at all of his betas. Most of them are wide-eyed, even Boyd, but Scott’s jaw is set like he’s gearing up for a fight, and Allison’s still shaking her head as though if she denies it hard enough he’ll tell her he’s making the whole thing up.

“Stiles murdered someone?”

Derek’s eyes flash red at the implication and he feels his claws digging into his arms.

“No, Scott, Stiles stopped a serial killer from taking even more lives. She captured me when I went looking for Cora, and she would have turned me into a Berserker and forced me to kill for her as well. Stiles saved me, then he stopped Kate from hurting anyone else.”

Even Isaac looks a little chastised at that news, though Scott’s still looking defiant. Allison’s expression has already shifted from denial to devastation, and Derek wonders if she’s thinking about her father and whether or not he knows. He didn’t bother telling Chris; Kate’s dead, and they made sure she’s never coming back again. As far as Derek’s concerned there’s no reason for her family to have to grieve twice.

“So I want to hear what everyone’s problem is with Stiles, because this has to stop. Stiles is part of this pack, and you’re all going to start acting like it.”

“Even you?” Erica asks, a growl in her voice that Derek knows he should call her on, but he also knows he deserves it. Erica’s the only one aside from Cora who’s been sticking up for Stiles, so if she wants to be mad at Derek for denying their bond for so long, he’ll let her have it for a while longer.

“Yes, even me,” Derek answers, flashing a small smile in her direction when she lets out a huff of breath. “I told you I’d make sure he doesn’t leave, didn’t I?”

“How are you going to do that, though? The Sheriff already made up his mind.” Boyd this time, to Derek’s surprise, and he sounds almost resigned.

“We’re going to start by figuring out why some of you seem to have such a problem with him,” Derek says with a meaningful glance at Isaac, “then we’ll start working on ways to make him realize he has a place in our pack.”

“I told him I was sorry,” Erica says, voice small. “For telling you about what Gerard did to him, and for knocking him out that one time.”

“What?” Derek says, though it comes out more like a snarl.

Erica just shrugs, but she’s looking down at her knees, and he can see a blush rising in her cheeks. “It was back during the Kanima. You told me to distract him so he wouldn’t get in the way, and I was already kind of mad because he never realized how much I liked him because he was too obsessed with Lydia. I guess I was still kind of mad and I hit him a little too hard.”

“I know he wasn’t technically Pack back then, but we never harm another member of our pack, okay? If you’ve got a problem with somebody, you bring it to me. It’s my job to sort out that kind of thing.”

Erica nods along with the rest of them, and when Boyd wraps an arm around her shoulders she sinks into his side.

“I don’t have a problem with Stiles,” Scott says. “Obviously. I mean, I know I’ve been a little busy lately, but he gets that. We’ve been best friends practically our whole lives.”

“So that means you can just ignore him when you don’t need him?” Cora asks, disdain clear in her voice.

“I don’t ignore him!” Scott insists. He waves his phone in front of his face like there’s some evidence on it somewhere to prove his innocence. “I’ve texted him like five times this morning and he hasn’t answered a single one.”

Cora rolls her eyes while Allison bites her lip as though she’s trying not to say anything, and Isaac looks smug.

“Being a werewolf doesn’t make you any better than humans,” Derek says with a pointed look in Isaac’s direction. He’s aware of what a hypocrite he’s being, and he’s glad Peter’s not here to point it out. Loudly.

“You said it did,” Isaac says, frowning now as though he feels like something is being taken away from him. “When you offered me the bite, you said I could be better.”

“The bite makes you stronger and faster, if you survive,” Derek answers. “But with that strength comes a huge responsibility. Your strength and speed are tools you use to protect your community, and to protect your pack. Packs look out for each other, every member, regardless of whether or not they’re a werewolf. You don’t have a problem with Allison, and she’s more human than Stiles. So what’s the real issue here?”

“I don’t have an issue,” Isaac insists, but he doesn’t quite meet Derek’s eyes as he shrugs. “It’s just that lately all you care about is how Stiles feels. What about the rest of us?”

Derek wants to growl at the fact that this whole mess boils down to petty jealousy, especially since Isaac is the one who has all of Scott’s attention. Instead he lets out a heavy sigh and sinks down into a chair.

“He’s been bonded to me for ten years, and I’ve been ignoring that bond the whole time. Granted, I didn’t actually know about it until recently, but I need to focus on making it right.”

“Why?”

“Because Stiles is his mate, dumbass,” Cora pipes up from behind him.

Five pairs of eyes turn to stare at him, and Derek doesn’t bother holding back his growl of frustration. He opens his mouth to tell them that Stiles isn’t his mate, not exactly, though that’s a potential outcome of their bond, but before he gets the words out he hears another voice behind him.

“Well, this is certainly an interesting turn of events,” Lydia says, one eyebrow cocked in challenge when Derek turns to look at her. She's standing in the entrance to the loft, looking somehow scared and smug at the same time. There's a stack of letters in her hand that Derek knows she picked up from the table near the door, and his eyes bleed red when he sees them.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks. “I told Jackson…”

“I’m not Jackson,” Lydia interrupts, rolling her eyes as though Derek has no reason to question her loyalties. “And as your new emissary…”

“What?” Cora snarls, her voice a little muted by the sounds of disbelief the others make. Derek narrows his eyes at Lydia and crosses the room, lifting the envelopes out of her hand.

“You’re not my emissary, Lydia,” Derek says, keeping his voice even because he can see that under the confident mask is the same lurking insecurity he saw on her when she was trying to save Jackson from the kanima.

“Because of Jackson?” she snaps, ignoring the way the rest of the pack is gaping at her.

“That’s part of it, yes,” Derek answers as patiently as he can. “Your loyalties are divided, and until I know where both you and Jackson stand, I can’t trust either of you to be a hundred percent committed to the pack.”

She opens her mouth to interrupt, eyes narrowed, but he raises a hand to stop her. “Even if all that weren’t true, you don’t know anything about being an emissary. It takes training and a certain skill set, neither of which you have.”

“You mean magic,” she huffs, anger covering up the real hurt he can plainly see now. “Is that why you think you need Stiles? There’s no reason to assume…”

“Magic isn’t something you can learn through sheer determination. It’s something you have or you don’t. You’re a banshee, yes, but that’s a different kind of magic than what an emissary requires.”

For a second he thinks she’s going to keep arguing, but then she huffs and looks away again. He feels a little bad about it, because it’s clear she’s trying to find a place in the pack that isn’t dependent on her relationship with Jackson, but it’s also clear that she’s doing it at the expense of Stiles.

“What’s with the letters?” Erica asks, glancing at the bundle of envelopes still gripped in Derek’s hand.

“They’re more courtship offers. Anyone who hears about Stiles and wants to court him has probably also heard that he's associated with the Hale Pack. Many of them will send courtship offers through us as the most direct way to contact him.”

“So more packs are going to show up here and try to steal him?” Scott asks, frowning down at his phone as he sends yet another text.

“Not just werewolves,” Derek says, raising his eyebrows when they all look shocked. “He’s already turned down an offer from the Fae, remember? But the ones who send letters won’t just show up, no. We do have to answer them, but we can just write back and refuse.”

“Is that what Stiles wants? To refuse them?”

The truth is that Derek doesn’t know, because he’s too afraid to ask and hear the answer. But until Stiles tells him otherwise, Derek is entitled to speak for him, so he’s going to refuse any and all offers that are sent to him as Stiles’ Alpha. What Stiles does with offers that don’t go through Derek he can’t control, but he hopes Stiles will at least talk to him before he accepts one of them.

“Until I hear otherwise, I have to assume he does,” he answers, glancing at each of them like he’s expecting one of them to argue. When no one says anything, not even Lydia, he lets out a breath and taps the stack of letters in his hand. “Normally the duty of answering these would fall to the emissary, but since that would be Stiles’ position…”

“I thought Deaton was emissary,” Scott interrupts, finally looking up to frown at Derek instead of his phone.

Derek grits his teeth against the sense of betrayal that hits him whenever he thinks of how little interest Deaton’s showed in helping him since he became Alpha. Even if he doesn’t want to help Derek, he should have helped Stiles when he realized Stiles was an unignited Spark. Derek doesn’t know a lot about druids or magic users in general, but he’s pretty sure one of the rules is that they help each other. So he wouldn’t trust Deaton to act as his emissary even if the man offered, and that’s never going to happen.

“He was my mother’s emissary. He’s helped us out now and then, sure, but he’s never acted as my emissary. If anything, Scott, his loyalty lies with you.”

Scott’s staring at him like he doesn’t really get what the problem is with that, but Derek doesn’t have the energy to explain it. “Look, the point is that until Stiles breaks the bond with me, I’m responsible for him. Which means answering any offers that are made to him.”

“We can help,” Erica says, smiling at him for the first time since she found out that it’s him Stiles is bonded to. “If Batman’s gonna keep getting fan mail, the least we can do is spread the work around a little, right?”

He smiles back at her, happy to have at least one of his original betas getting on board with learning to act like Pack. Boyd nods his agreement as well, and even Isaac rolls his eyes and gives a short nod of acquiescence. It's not enough, but it's a start. It's giving them a chance to start acting like a pack, and he thinks that's what his mother would have done. More than anything he wishes he could ask her if he's getting everything wrong or if there's any hope for his pack at all. As soon as he thinks it he remembers the message that Stiles is still carrying around, the one he hasn't brought up since Derek refused it. The thought of living his mother's memory, hearing her words, still terrifies him, but maybe it's time Derek heard what she has to say.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of blood and more than canon typical levels of violence in this chapter, probably. Fair warning.

The next time Stiles wakes up it’s with a splitting headache and no idea where he is. He can tell by the temperature and the scent of pine in the air that he’s outside, probably somewhere in the preserve. He tries to sit up and look around, but when he can’t move he surveys his body and realizes that he’s tied down to a large, rough surface.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a deceptively sweet, feminine voice says, and Stiles looks over to find the Alpha Pack’s emissary smiling down at him.

“What the hell is going on?” he tries to ask, but the words come out slurred, like his tongue is too big for his mouth.

The emissary —Jennifer? No, Julia — makes a disapproving sound and pats his cheek. “So sorry about that. You probably have quite a headache. Your magic fought off the sedative we gave you much more quickly than we expected, so Ennis had to use...measures to make sure you stayed unconscious. I’m afraid he hit you a bit hard. You’ve been out for more than a day.”

 _Well, that explains the headache,_ Stiles thinks. He doesn’t bother trying to talk again; she’ll tell him her plan at some point, he’s sure, and in the meantime he figures he should save as much of his strength as he can. 

He tries to picture Ennis and remembers a bald giant who looked about three seconds away from roid rage. Yeah, he can see a guy like that having trouble controlling his strength. Still, it was a dick move, and Stiles is going to make him pay for it just as soon as he figures out their plan and gets himself out of here.

“Ethan?” he manages to rasp, and by the way her expression turns approving, she understood him.

“Yes, he did provide an excellent distraction, didn’t he? We thought of sending Adrianne, since you seemed rather taken with her, but in the end everyone agreed that you might take the sight of her injured at her Alpha’s hand a little more personally. We didn’t want you getting it in your head to run off and confront Duke, not when we needed you to go back upstairs where Ennis could get his hands on you.”

He’s a little insulted that they all seem to be under the impression that Stiles has been mooning over Adrianne, especially considering he barely knows her. Then again, they’ve apparently been plotting to kidnap him for some reason, and he didn’t figure that out, so maybe he should be more worried about his own lack of self-preservation than whether or not some girl thinks he has a crush on her.

Stiles reaches for his magic to try to figure out where in the preserve he is, exactly, but it feels muted somehow, like he can’t quite grasp it. He can feel the pulse of the ley lines thrumming underneath him, but he can’t get a grip on it to make it do his bidding.

There are spells to bind someone’s magic, he knows, or maybe whatever they’ve tied him up with is infused with some sort of magical dampener. Whatever it is, it’s working well enough to keep him from reaching his magic, which means he’s going to have to wait and see what the Alpha Pack’s plan is and keep his eyes peeled for a chance to escape.

He turns his head far enough to watch Julia walking around him in a wide circle, stopping every few feet to carve something into whatever surface he’s chained to. It takes him longer than it should to figure out that they’ve got him strapped to the Nemeton itself, but he figures being knocked out by an Alpha werewolf is a decent enough excuse for a little brain fog.

When she’s done Julia straightens up and looks down at him again, a benign smile on her face that reminds him a little of Deaton. Only he’s never seen that crazy glint in Deaton’s eyes, so he figures if she’s really a Druid like she said, she bailed on the whole concept of ‘balance’ a while ago.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon,” she says, like that’s supposed to be comforting.

Instead of answering Stiles rolls his eyes, but Julia’s already looking away from him so she misses it. A few moments later there’s a sound of footsteps coming toward them, and Stiles cranes his neck to try to see who’s approaching.

“He’s finally awake?” 

A second later Adrianne’s features swim into view, and Stiles does his best not to react. It does feel sort of like a betrayal; he’d thought she was cool enough, and he’d actually believed her when she said she liked hanging out with him.

“Yes,” Julia answers, as though Adrianne can’t see for herself that he’s clearly conscious. “Just a few minutes ago. I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Well you were the only one,” Adrianne says. “His pack hasn’t even noticed he’s gone yet.”

And okay, that stings a little, because they should at least have noticed that he’s not in school today. His dad should have noticed he didn’t sleep in his bed last night, and at the very least called Scott to see if he knew where his son was. But he’s been keeping his distance from all of them lately, so maybe they all figure he’s just avoiding them.

“Pity,” Julia says, though she doesn’t sound much like she cares. “Is Kali on her way?”

“Yeah,” Adrianne answers. “The uncle was tailing her so she had to give him the slip. It held her up for a little while.”

‘The uncle’ must refer to Peter, which means that at least one member of the Hale Pack is suspicious of the Alphas. Still, he clearly doesn’t know that they’ve kidnapped Stiles, and without access to his magic, Stiles can’t warn any of them of what’s happening. He swallows a sigh, but before he can start to panic there’s a warm pulse from the ley lines beneath him, almost like the magic of the land is trying to reassure him. Stiles has no idea what it means, but it’s comforting to know he’s not completely alone out here.

“For what it’s worth, I meant what I said,” Adrianne says, smiling sort of sadly at him. “It wouldn’t have been so bad, having you around, but it was pretty obvious you weren’t going to accept our offer. Anyway, Julia’s pretty bad at sharing the spotlight, and Duke promised her she could take your power and keep her position.”

“You should tell the rest of your pack that if they want to live through the day, they should get out of town now,” Stiles says. His voice is hoarse and gravelly from thirst and disuse, but when he sees her eyes widen a little he knows he’s gotten his point across.

Julia makes a little tutting noise from somewhere behind him, then she reappears over him with a sharper smile than the last one and a knife in her hand. “I’m afraid you’re not really in any position to be making threats, Spark. It’s funny, everyone was so excited when your Spark ignited, as though you’re something special. But here you are, completely in my power. Not so impressive after all.”

“So that’s the game? You take my power for yourself and the others take out my pack?”

“You are a clever one,” Julia says, reaching down with the hand still holding the knife and running the metal along his cheekbone. There’s a sharp sting where the tip of the blade catches his skin, a single drop of blood welling up. “And pretty, too. But Adrianne’s right; I don’t like to share.”

She looks up and gestures at Adrianne with her chin. “Go. Tell Duke everything’s proceeding on schedule.”

“Bye, Stiles,” Adrianne says, flashing a toothy grin. “It was fun.”

“Not for me,” Stiles answers, but he’s too tired to put much heat behind it. His head’s pounding even harder now, pulsing in time with the pulses of the ley lines beneath him, and he watches with detached interest as Julia cuts away his shirt until he’s bare-chested and shivering in the chilly winter air.

It’s such a cliche that he wants to laugh, especially when he thinks about what the Fae told him about the Nemeton. The idea of sacrificing him in a sacred space probably appeals to a crazy druid, like it’s some kind of poetic justice to spill magical blood in a place where so much magic already exists. Or maybe she’s just hoping to steal the land’s magic at the same time she takes his, becoming some kind of all-powerful Alpha Druid. That seems like the kind of thing that would appeal to Deucalion.

Not that he’s planning to let any of that happen. He reaches for his magic again and this time he feels it a little more easily, wrapping around him before it fades away again. He still can’t get a grip on it, but something’s definitely changed, so he takes deep breaths and doesn’t panic when Julia straddles his hips and looks down at him.

“This might hurt a little,” she says, still holding the knife, the tip shining red from where it cut his cheek. He has a second to wonder what she means before she’s carving into him, murmuring some incantation as she draws a rune in the center of his chest.

Stiles cries out and arches up against the pain, instinctively trying to buck her off, but she just tightens her thighs around his hips and holds on. He’d make a joke about this not exactly being the way he imagined a girl riding him the first time, but there’s nothing funny at all about the situation. Not when he can already feel the blood trickling down his skin, dripping off his sides to splatter on the surface of the Nemeton.

When she finishes the first rune she sits back to survey her work, a pleased smile turning up her lips at the sight. Stiles narrows his eyes and reaches for his magic again, and just as he thought, he can feel it now, flexing under his fingers and waiting to do his bidding. The ley lines pulse again, sending him more comfort and a sense of protection he’d never be able to describe. But he doesn’t have to, because what Julia doesn’t know is that she just signed her own death warrant.

“That’s going to leave a scar, you bitch,” he snarls, reaching out with his magic to loosen the ropes still holding him down.

Julia grins down at him, wide and unhinged, the knife still dripping with his blood as she holds it up. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll clean you up for your funeral. That is, if there’s anything left for your poor father to bury.”

The mention of his father makes him see red, and he lashes out without thinking. One moment she’s still sitting astride him, staring thoughtfully at his chest like she's trying to decide the perfect placement for the next rune, and the next she’s flying across the clearing to slam into a tree. Stiles pushes himself onto his feet and watches as she blinks, dazed, then looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“How? It’s impossible!”

“You spilled the blood of a Spark on the land it protects, you moron,” Stiles says as he reaches out with one hand, guiding his magic to drag Julia back to her feet and hold her against the tree. “I protect this land and its magic protects me.”

“Wait,” Julia says, her gaze drifting over his shoulder, and Stiles uses his magic to feel the single werewolf creeping through the clearing toward him. Kali, he assumes, considering Adrianne said she was on her way, but he doesn’t bother turning around to look. Instead he _believes_ that a ring of mountain ash surrounds the Nemeton, and a moment later he hears the shriek of outrage that tells him Kali ran into his barrier.

“I’m done waiting,” he says, swallowing against the surge of emotion that comes along with the words. He doesn’t have time to think about how much waiting he’s done, not while there’s a murderous Druid and a furious Alpha werewolf to deal with. 

Stiles closes his hand into a fist and listens to Julia choke, her own hands coming up to claw at the invisible hold on her throat. Behind him Kali roars, then she sprints around the Nemeton to get to her mate. Stiles watches as she tries to find an enemy to fight, then finally turns toward him with red eyes, words slurred around her fangs.

“Stop! You’re killing her!” 

“Kind of the point,” Stiles says, his voice sounding far away, like it’s coming from someone else. He doesn’t know if he’s disassociating or if it’s just blood loss, but he can’t feel anything about watching Julia die by his hand.

He didn’t see Kate finally meet her end, since it was technically Talia’s spirit that killed her. But he knows if Talia hadn’t taken over that he would have done his best to take Kate out himself, and he wouldn’t have lost any sleep over it. She was a murderer and she deserved to die, just like the Alpha Pack deserves to die. So he doesn’t feel anything when Julia finally stops breathing and crumples to the ground, or when Kali lets out a roar of fury and anguish.

“I’ll tear you limb from limb, Spark,” she snarls, red eyes shining with tears as she clutches at her mate’s lifeless body. “I’ll kill your entire worthless pack and then your father, and once I’ve taken everyone you love, I’ll come for you.”

“I mean, you could try,” Stiles says, shrugging and picking up the remnants of his shirt to mop up some of the blood on his chest. All it does is smear the mess around, so he gives up and climbs off the Nemeton.

He can feel his magic thrumming stronger than ever inside him, like spilling his blood on the Nemeton has tied him even more to the magic in the earth somehow. Blood magic is one of the strongest and most dangerous forms of magic, he knows, and he’s read enough to feel pretty uneasy about messing around with it. But in this case he was just the instrument, and if spilling his blood for the land will strengthen his connection to it, he doesn’t mind that much.

He does mind the fact that he’s going to have a scar in the shape of a rune, especially since he’s pretty sure the one she used is meant to open doorways to other locations. That’s just asking for possession, and if he wasn’t pissed enough to kill the entire Alpha Pack before Julia started with the bloodletting, he’s sure as hell there now.

A furious growl reminds him that he’s not alone, and he looks up in time to watch Kali bouncing off the mountain ash barrier. She throws herself at it over and over, but every time it just shimmers and throws her off again. Stiles rolls his eyes and wonders where the hell his pack is, because they’re supposed to be meeting at the Hale house after school and that means they should be close enough to hear Kali losing her shit.

Their eyes meet and Kali seems to realize she’s not going to reach him, so she steps away from the barrier and sneers at him. “On second thought, perhaps I’ll start with that worthless father of yours. Tell me, Spark, will you stay tucked away nice and safe behind that barrier of yours while I gut your worthless human father, or will you come out and fight?”

The magic moves under his skin like a living thing, and Stiles drops the barrier with a thought. He can tell what she’s thinking; that fear and anger over the threat to his father will make him sloppy. She’s counting on him to make a mistake, to come at her like he believes he could take her in a physical fight. But that’s always the problem with werewolves; they assume every fight is going to be about fangs and claws, and they underestimate any other kind of weapon.

“I was going to let you walk away,” he says, his tone conversational as he stalks forward.

She charges him, teeth bared, but he just _believes_ himself onto the other side of the clearing and disappears before she gets anywhere near him. The second she realizes what happened she spins around, snarling and leaping onto the Nemeton to watch him circle around behind her.

“I was going to let you take a message back to your pathetic excuse for a pack, tell them that this territory isn’t up for grabs. I was even going to let you take your mate’s body,” Stiles says, flicking a wrist in Julia’s direction without looking. A second later her body goes up in flames, and Kali lets out an outraged roar. “But now you can just die with her.”

Before he finishes his sentence she leaps at him, and just for a second he expects the ghost of an Alpha wolf to burst out of him again. But it’s just him -- well, him and the Nemeton -- and he feels the boost in his magic from the ground beneath his feet as he throws her backwards hard enough to impale her on a tree branch.

For a moment she’s frozen as though she’s not sure what happened, then she looks down and sees that she’s six feet off the ground with a tree sticking out of her chest. There’s way too much blood, and Stiles is glad suddenly that he hasn’t eaten anything in more than a day. His stomach tries to revolt anyway, so he looks away and swallows down the urge to be sick. He can hear her struggling, strange gurgling noises escaping her as she tries to free herself, and Stiles wonders vaguely if she could heal from a hole that big right through her chest. He reaches out with his magic to find her heartbeat, sluggish and fading, then he glances back up into the fading red light in her eyes.

“You shouldn’t have threatened my father.”

Kali snarls, but it comes out strained, and when she tries to struggle this time the branch breaks and she falls to the ground with a muffled thud. Stiles crosses the clearing to look down at her, feeling for her heartbeat again to find that it’s stopped. He looks across the clearing and _believes_ that the fire will die out, waiting for the flames to burn themselves out before he takes hold of Kali’s body as carefully as possible and disappears from the clearing.


	24. Chapter 24

Derek spends Monday morning watching the hotel where the Alpha Pack is staying. The hotel’s right at the edge of town, and the Alphas are booked in a room near the end of the building where they can get as much privacy as possible. Peter’s been watching them since he tracked down where they were staying, but once they started splitting up Derek decided it would be a good idea to keep more than one pair of eyes on them.

It’s almost noon when Kali leaves with one of the twins, so Derek sends Peter after her and stays to make sure none of the others wanders off before their meeting is set to take place. He doesn’t want any surprises, and he knows better than to believe Deucalion’s not up to something, so he wants to make sure he’s tracking the Alphas until it’s time for them to go to the Hale house.

A little while after Peter leaves his phone beeps, and Derek pulls it out and frowns when he sees a text message from Erica. _stiles isnt here_ it says, and a second later there’s another message. _hasnt been in classes and cant find him anywhere at lunch_.

It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Stiles could have decided to skip school, or he could just be using his magic to avoid the pack completely. He dials Stiles’ number anyway, frowning when the call goes straight to voicemail. It’s tempting to abandon his post and go over to Stiles’ house to see if he’s there, but he doesn’t want to give Deucalion a chance to slip past him.

Instead Derek calls Peter, listening impatiently to the ringing until finally the line connects. “I would have thought radio silence would be a little more conducive to tailing a werewolf,” Peter says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Change of plans,” Derek says. “Stiles isn’t at school and his phone’s going straight to voicemail. Go to his house and see if he’s there. I’ll stick with Deucalion in case he decides to make a move.”

“And if they’ve already taken him?”

“I don’t know how they could have,” Derek says, though there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought. “We’ve been watching them all morning.”

There’s no answer for a moment, and Derek’s about to check if Peter’s hung up on him when his uncle speaks again. “When’s the last time anyone heard from him?”

“He texted me yesterday morning,” Derek answers, swallowing a sigh when he realizes that while he was busy being smug about being the only one Stiles had contacted, the Alpha Pack could have been doing any number of things to him. “Scott was trying to get ahold of him during the meeting, but Stiles wasn’t answering his texts. Scott thought he was just getting the silent treatment.”

There’s a vague humming sound and then Derek hears a window sliding open. “While it’s possible Stiles was ignoring Scott, it seems unlikely. Especially since his phone is on his bedroom floor with a dead battery.”

“Shit,” Derek mutters under his breath, his phone groaning when he squeezes too hard. “Can you tell if there was anyone else in the room?”

“That’s just the thing, nephew,” Peter answers. “I don’t pick up any scents at all.”

“Nothing?” Derek asks, his heart pounding hard enough now that he’s sure Peter will hear it even over the phone.

“Nothing at all, not even a trace of our dear Spark,” Peter says, the worry evident in his voice even though Derek can tell he’s trying to sound nonchalant. “Their emissary must have employed some kind of scent blocker that removed every scent from the room, not just the Alphas’.”

“How did they even get in? Shouldn’t he have protections up on his house?”

“And why would he have done that?” Peter asks, voice going sharp. “He’s had a few months training with the Fae, who spend all their time in an alternate dimension. They have no use for the kind of wards an emissary would employ. Deaton hasn’t bothered to teach him anything, and it’s not as though you’ve made any effort to steer him toward emissary training.”

“He’ll barely talk to me,” Derek snaps back, but he knows this isn’t the time for this argument. Not when he’s positive the Alphas have taken Stiles somewhere right under his nose, and they have no scent trail to follow and no clue where to start looking. “Just keep looking for any sign as to where they might have taken him. I’ll try to get close enough to see if I can pick up anything from the others.”

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you shouldn’t rush in on your own and get yourself captured again,” Peter says, and Derek winces at the reminder of what almost happened with Kate.

“No, you don’t,” is all he says, then he ends the call and pulls up Erica’s text again. For a few seconds he considers not telling the pack anything, just letting them get through the rest of the school day without worrying about what’s happening with Stiles. But if there’s a fight with the Alpha Pack there’s no way Derek and Peter can win on their own, and as much as he hates to put a bunch of teenagers in harm’s way, he needs to learn to trust his betas.

Derek swallows a sigh and types _Tell everyone to get to the preserve as soon as you can. The alphas have Stiles._ and hits send before he can change his mind. He pockets his phone and moves forward, footsteps silent as he gets as close to the Alphas’ hotel room as he dares. He’s furious with himself for letting them get to Stiles, for not checking on him yesterday when Scott said Stiles wasn’t answering him. Derek should have known something happened to him, right? Even if their bond is one-sided, it feels like a failure to know Stiles was taken right out from under his nose when he could have done something to stop it.

At the very least he should have realized sooner, before an entire day had gone by while they could have been doing anything to him. Derek wonders if the Sheriff noticed that Stiles didn’t come home last night, or if he just assumed Stiles was off getting mixed up in pack business again and firmed his resolve to send him away.

Derek creeps around the side of the hotel, holding his breath while he stands under the window to listen. If they’re paying any attention they’ll be able to tell he’s out here, but he’s counting on them being arrogant enough to let their guard down. It takes a minute to filter out the ambient noise from traffic and other hotel guests, but finally he narrows in on Ennis’ voice.

“I didn’t hit him that hard,” Ennis says. “It’s not my fault humans are so breakable.”

“He’s been unconscious for a full day, Ennis,” Deucalion says. “If he’s rendered useless thanks to your carelessness you will pay, mark my words.”

Derek’s vision bleeds red at the thought of Stiles unconscious since yesterday. They haven’t said his name, but Derek has no doubt that’s exactly who they’re talking about. He listens for the tell-tale sound of Stiles’ erratic heartbeat, but he only hears three hearts in the room, none of them Stiles. That means the Druid is somewhere else, most likely wherever Stiles is, doing who knows what while they wait for him to wake up. 

“I don’t see why it matters,” Ennis says.

“I still say it’s a waste,” Ethan pipes up, sounding bored with the whole conversation. “If you’d let me mate with him for real we could have had pups born of a Spark and an Alpha. You know how powerful they would be.”

Derek frowns at that, because it sounds like Ethan’s implying that Stiles could somehow produce pups with a male Alpha. Surely Cora or Peter would have told Derek if Stiles could perform impossible magic like that, wouldn’t they? But the one time he and Cora talked about pups to carry on the family line, their conversation was interrupted. Derek remembers being all too eager to escape that conversation, but maybe instead of trying to assuage Derek’s guilt, Cora had been trying to tell him something else.

“I gave Julia my word,” Deucalion says, drawing Derek’s attention back to the conversation. “And you know as well as I do he was never going to accept either of you as his mate. Not with the way he reeks of longing every time someone mentions Hale’s name.”

“Given the choice between mating with me and us killing his entire pack, he would have made the right decision.”

Deucalion lets out a sigh that tells Derek they’ve had this argument more than once. “And then there would have been cubs underfoot and an unwilling mate to keep under control. Do you have any idea how inconvenient it would be to travel with children?”

Before Ethan can answer a phone rings, and Derek listens to Deucalion’s greeting, then, “Thank you, Adrianne dear. Meet us at the rendezvous point.”

“Everything’s going according to plan,” Deucalion announces when he hangs up. “Now let’s get moving. I want to be there before Hale’s little pack of misfits turns up.”

The hotel backs up to the woods just outside the preserve, so Derek heads for the treeline and disappears into it before the Alphas make it out of their hotel room and catch his scent. It doesn’t matter if they figure out he was there, because he knows these woods better than any of them could ever dream to, so there’s no chance of them catching him once he hits the trees. He sets a steady pace as he jogs through the woods toward his family’s property, caught between hoping his betas are there and hoping they’re stuck in school where at least they’ll be out of harm’s way.

When he breaks through the trees into the clearing where the old house still stands he gets his answer. They’re all gathered at the front of the house, standing in a loose circle and staring into the trees as though they’re expecting the Alpha Pack to materialize out of the forest. He’s glad to see they’re being vigilant, but that doesn’t mean he likes the idea of any of them having to go up against an Alpha.

“What do you mean, ‘the Alphas have Stiles’?” Scott asks as soon as he spots Derek coming toward them. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that no one’s seen or heard from him since yesterday morning, and their emissary’s nowhere to be found either. My best guess is that she’s going to try to steal his magic.”

“And then...what? He’ll just be a regular human again?”

Cora and Erica let out twin sighs of exasperation, and Allison’s grip on Scott’s arm tightens a little. “They’re not going to leave him alive, Scott. They’re going to try to kill all of us, and they’re planning to start with him. That’s why we need to find him now.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that,” Deucalion’s voice rings through the clearing, then he steps out of the woods in the very direction the betas had been staring when Derek arrived. He’s flanked by Ennis and Ethan with the other twin trailing behind them, but there’s still no sign of Kali.

“Where is he?” Derek growls, claws out and his teeth elongating as he steps in front of his pack.

“My emissary had some private business to discuss with him,” Deucalion says. “You know how magic users are. So secretive.”

“If you harm my Spark your lives are forfeit.” Derek rocks back on his heels, balancing his center of gravity in preparation for the fight he knows is coming. It’s a distraction, just a way for them to keep him away from wherever they’re holding Stiles until they get what they want. But he can’t leave his betas to take on three Alphas on their own, even if he had any idea where to start searching for Stiles.

“You have a choice to make, Derek,” Deucalion says as though Derek hadn’t even spoken. “When we came here it was with the intent of taking what we wanted. Part of that is a Hale Alpha to add to my pack. Your name still carries quite a bit of weight in certain circles. You can join us and save your own skin. All you have to do is kill your pack.”

“In your dreams,” Derek snarls.

“Honestly, I can’t imagine why you’re so attached to them,” Deucalion says, sneering over Derek’s shoulder at his betas. “A handful of bitten teenagers? Hardly worth shedding a tear over. I suppose I can understand your hesitation when it comes to your sister, but how well do you really know her? After all, she did abandon you for another pack for years.”

“The only person dying here today will be you, Deucalion,” Derek says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels. He’s heard stories of Deucalion’s strength, knows he killed his own pack in order to gain that strength, and Derek’s not positive he can best him. Still, he’d rather die than turn on his own pack, so if this is how he goes, so be it.

“You disappoint me, Derek.” He sighs heavily, as though he really is disappointed and not thrilled for the opportunity to finally wipe out the last remnants of the Hale Pack. “Honestly, I’d hoped you were at least more promising than your pacifist mother.”

A snarl tears out of Derek’s throat and he steps forward, his rage at the mention of his mother making him reckless. He wants to charge, to tear out Deucalion’s throat, to wipe the smug expression off his face with fangs and claws. Behind Deucalion Ethan and Ennis are snarling in return, both of them poised to strike the second their leader gives the word. Only Adrianne looks as though she’d rather not fight, and Derek doesn’t know if it’s because she doesn’t want to hurt Stiles’ pack, or if she’s just not as filled with bloodlust as the other Alphas.

Derek spares a thought for his betas, none of them prepared for a battle of this level, and he prays to the moon that somehow they’ll make it through this. As soon as he thinks it he hears a howl in the distance, furious and anguished at the same time. It sounds feminine, and when he looks at Deucalion he sees the shock on the man’s face before he schools his features back into an impassive mask.

“Something wrong with Kali?” Derek asks, hoping against hope that whatever happened, the fury in Kali’s voice means Stiles is still alive.

Instead of answering Deucalion nods in Derek’s direction, and before he has time to react Ennis is leaping at him, claws out and Derek barely has time to dive out of his path. He catches Ennis behind the knee as he slides out of the way, kicking out hard enough to hear something crack. Ennis howls in pain and goes down, but he doesn’t stay there, and a second later the clearing is a blur of fangs and claws and glowing eyes.

Erica and Cora team up to take on Adrianne, while Boyd and Isaac circle Ethan on the other side of the clearing. Scott catches Ennis’ attention, using the injury Derek already inflicted to keep him just off balance enough to stop him from breaking away. That leaves Derek to face off with Deucalion, and he knows better than to underestimate him just because he’s blind.

“This is your last chance, Derek,” Deucalion says as they circle one another. “Join me and learn what it means to be an Alpha among Alphas.”

“Over my dead body,” Derek answers with a snarl.

“So be it,” Deucalion says, then he strikes out faster than lightning and grips Derek by the throat.

There’s a moment of almost peace where Derek thinks this is it, that Deucalion will tear out his throat the same way Derek did to Peter, and he’ll finally see his family again. He almost doesn’t mind, even though it means leaving behind his pack, leaving his betas with no one but Peter to look out for them and leaving Cora more or less alone in the world again.

He regrets the potential of what could have been, of bringing his pack together and teaching them to be a real family. He regrets letting his fear keep him from opening up to anyone, even Laura before she died, and what it’s done to these kids who trusted him enough to pledge their loyalty to him before they even knew him.

He regrets what could have been with Stiles, too, vague half-formed images of a big house in the woods and little wolves with dark hair and amber eyes running around, of a family not destroyed by selfishness. He regrets not being there to see what Stiles will become, how he’ll shape his magic to make whoever he eventually chooses to bond with all the stronger for it.

All those thoughts pass through his mind in the blink of an eye, but the killing blow never comes. Instead Deucalion’s claws barely scrape his skin as he’s pulled backwards, tossed across the clearing by an unseen force. Derek stands up and looks around, eyes wide when they land on Stiles. His chest is bare, blood smeared across it and even from a distance Derek can smell that it’s Stiles’ own blood.

He’s dragging something behind him, and when he gets close enough Derek realizes it’s Kali. There’s a thick tree branch sticking out of her chest and he can’t hear a heartbeat, though it’s hard to hear anything above the pounding of his own pulse in his ears as he watches Stiles stare down the Alphas.

“Stiles?” Scott says, but Stiles doesn’t even glance in his direction. He’s staring straight at Deucalion, a hardness in his eyes Derek’s never seen before. A shiver runs up his spine, and he can’t tell if it’s from the power Stiles is emitting or the destruction he’s pretty sure they’re about to witness.

“Your emissary is dead,” Stiles says, then he hefts Kali’s body without so much as touching it and tosses it at Deucalion’s feet. “As is her mate. You came into my territory under false pretenses, then you drew first blood. Your life is forfeit. Do you have any last words?”


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles doesn’t have an actual destination in mind when he magics himself away from the Nemeton. The only thought in his head is ‘find Deucalion’, so he’s not surprised when he materializes in the clearing outside the Hale house, where the pack is facing off against what’s left of the Alphas.

As soon as he sees what’s happening Stiles flings his magic outwards, pushing the two packs apart and stepping between them to stare down at Deucalion. His magic is thrumming in his veins, stronger than ever, and he knows it’s because of the blood he spilled on the Nemeton. It’s the only explanation that makes sense, because he didn’t steal Julia’s corrupted magic from her when she died, and the new power he feels flowing through him is friendly, for lack of a better description.

“Your emissary is dead,” he says, his gaze never leaving Deucalion as he tosses Kali’s body at the feet of her pack. “As is her mate. You came into my territory under false pretenses, then you drew first blood. Your life is forfeit. Do you have any last words?”

The words come out of him without thought, like the magic knows what to say even though he doesn’t. He knows this is part of a ritual he’s read about, and if he ever decides to become an emissary he’ll have to learn all these things for real. But for now he’s tired and he’s cold and he’s still covered in his own blood, and he’s more than happy to let the magic take the lead.

“The emissary acted alone. I had no knowledge of her plan,” Deucalion says, and Stiles will give him credit for not even flinching as he says it.

“Lie,” Derek growls from behind him, and Stiles lets his mouth curve into a smirk.

“Yeah, one of your junior Alphas there already sold you out. Granted, she was expecting me to die, so she probably didn’t think it mattered if she told me your plan. Speaking of which, you want to run if you plan to live through the day,” Stiles says, glancing past Deucalion to meet Adrianne’s gaze.

The only answer he gets is a short nod, then Adrianne grabs her brother’s hand and together they start to make their way backwards toward the tree line. Ennis makes to follow, but before he gets more than a few steps away he’s lifted off his feet and flung backwards with enough impact to leave gouges in the earth.

“Not you,” Stiles says, voice echoing around the clearing thanks to all the magic thrumming just under his skin. He lifts his hands and uses his magic to pull Ennis back to his feet, then slams him backwards into a tree hard enough to knock him unconscious this time. “That’s for hitting me so hard, asshole.”

“Stiles,” Scott says again, and Stiles finally glances over his shoulder to find his best friend staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Did you...did you kill them?”

Stiles sighs and turns back to look at Deucalion. He’s not surprised that Scott would see it that way; he’s always been squeamish about putting down their enemies, even the ones that deserve it, unless it directly benefits Scott. He had no problem with the idea of killing Peter so he could go back to being human, after all, and then there was the whole double-cross with Gerard and the mountain ash. But he gets weirdly self-righteous about it whenever someone else suggests putting down a monster, even if it’s one who’s killed plenty of innocents like Deucalion.

“It was them or me, Scotty,” Stiles says, even though he’s pretty sure Scott won’t think that’s a reasonable excuse. Like he’d feel better about Stiles if he’d just laid down and died rather than end up with blood on his hands.

“But…”

“Scott, shut up,” Derek growls behind him. In front of him, Deucalion lets out a derisive laugh, still trying to hold onto his cool even though he knows there’s no way he’s getting out of this clearing unscathed.

“Another pacifist in the Hale Pack? What a surprise,” Deucalion sneers, and when Derek roars at him, Stiles considers holding Deucalion down and just letting Derek kill him. He’s not sure what that much Alpha power will do to Derek, though, and he’s pretty sure none of them want to find out.

“Enough,” Stiles commands, and even the rumbling growls behind him fall silent. “The Alpha Pack has committed its last crime against the supernatural community. Your reign ends here and now.”

“You can’t just kill him,” Scott says, the words coming out in a rush like maybe he’s afraid someone’s going to silence him again.

“So you would let a murderer walk free to kill again?” Stiles asks, aiming the question over his shoulder without taking his eyes off his prey. “The Alpha Pack has killed a lot of people, Scott. A lot of _werewolves_ , most of them innocent. They killed their own packs just for power. How do they have any more right to live than Kate or Gerard?”

“Stiles, this isn’t you,” Scott says, and Stiles rolls his eyes, because seriously, how would Scott even know? They’ve all changed in the past year, grown up and apart, and he’d be surprised if Scott knows the real him anymore.

He pins Deucalion with his magic, just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about trying something while Stiles’ back is turned, then he looks over his shoulder again. The entire pack is watching him, wide-eyed and fearful for the first time. Stiles swallows hard at that, because he never wanted them to be afraid of him. He just wanted to be part of the pack, but even now that he’s got enough power to be seen as useful, it’s not enough.

Derek doesn’t look scared, but he does look worried, like maybe he thinks becoming a killer is going to change Stiles somehow. And maybe it will, but right now all he wants to do is eliminate the threat so he can go home and take a shower. Killing Deucalion would be the easiest way to neutralize that threat, but maybe there’s a way to make him suffer even more. Stiles closes his eyes and reaches out with his magic, letting it slip from his fingers and into Deucalion’s chest until he finds the seat of his power.

It’s dark and twisted, just as he imagines Julia’s magic was before Stiles snuffed it out for good. It’s strong, pulsing with the power of countless other werewolves killed at Deucalion’s hand. He lets his magic surround that spot, then he begins to squeeze slowly, ignoring the way Deucalion cries out and clutches at his chest as though he can somehow hold on to the power he’s stolen over the years.

There’s movement behind him but he ignores it, focusing every ounce of his being on drawing all the stolen power out of Deucalion. When he’s done he pulls his magic back and takes two steps forward, staring down at Deucalion where he’s slumped over on the ground.

“What have you done?” he chokes out, the smug expression finally replaced with one of sheer terror.

“Took back what you stole,” Stiles answers. “Maybe living without all that power will be a better punishment than death.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Deucalion snarls, but he’s too weak from having the Alpha power ripped out of him to do more than stagger to his feet.

“No,” Stiles says, raising his hand again as he thinks of a spell he read about in the Fae realm, one that covens use to keep out undesirables from their ritual spaces. He doesn’t remember the exact words, but he _believes_ anyway, feels the magic settle into place over Deucalion and Ennis. “You’ll leave this territory and you’ll never return. If I hear of you attempting to regain your stolen power I’ll find you and destroy you. This is all the mercy I’ve got in me, dude, and you can thank Scott for leaving here with your life.”

He reaches out with his magic to wake Ennis, then he reaches inside Ennis and does the same thing to his Alpha spark that he’d done to Deucalion’s stolen power. When Ennis stops screaming Stiles nods toward Deucalion where he’s still cowering. “Take him and go. If you come back I’ll kill you both.”

They’re barely out of the clearing before the questions start, several different people talking at once, and it’s all too much after the day he’s had. Stiles ignores all of them to look down at his chest, head swimming a little as the headache and the blood loss finally overcome the adrenaline. He focuses on healing the marks on his chest, willing them not to scar, but there’s too much foreign magic infused into the rune, and all he manages to do is close up the cuts and leave behind a faint outline of Julia’s handiwork.

There’s a low growl behind him, and Stiles finally looks up to find Derek glowering at his betas. Once they shut up he turns back to Stiles, taking in the now-healed cuts on his chest and the blood still smeared across his skin.

“Are you okay?” he asks, careful, like maybe he expects Stiles to blast him across the field too. It might even have been a tempting thought yesterday, but now he just wants to go home.

“I’ll live,” Stiles answers with a shrug, shivering in the cold almost-winter air. Before he even realizes what’s happening he’s being wrapped up in soft, well-worn leather, and Stiles blinks down at Derek’s jacket and then back up to its owner. “Thanks.”

“What did you do to them, exactly?” Peter asks, and Stiles blinks again, frowning as he tries to figure out when Peter got here.

“Took back the power they stole,” Stiles answers. “I took their Alpha powers, and I bound them so they won’t be able to steal anyone else’s Alpha powers either. I couldn’t take their wolves completely since they’re both born, but they should be a lot less dangerous from now on.”

“Remarkable. I’m sure there are many packs that will want to thank you,” Peter says.

Stiles flushes a little at the compliment, but he just shrugs in answer. “They didn’t deserve to call themselves Alphas. Real Alphas take care of their packs, they don’t hurt them.”

“Indeed,” Peter says, but Stiles is too busy staring down at the rune on his chest to notice the sly look Peter directs toward Derek, or the way Derek’s eyes narrow in response.

“Well this has been fun and all,” Stiles says, finally looking up at the pack again, “but I’m beat. Getting hit over the head and then almost becoming a virgin sacrifice is as much excitement as I can handle for one day.”

Everyone starts talking at once again, but Stiles barely hears their voices, let alone what they’re actually saying, because suddenly his head is spinning and the ground is rushing up to meet him.

* * *

It’s only because Derek’s so completely focused on Stiles that he’s fast enough to catch him before he falls. He’s not surprised that all the stress of the last few weeks has finally caught up to him, he’s just sorry Stiles had to kill two people with no one there to help him.

He half expects Stiles to pass out again the way he did when they fought Kate, but when he looks down Stiles is blinking up at him.

“Huh.”

Derek bites back a laugh and eases Stiles back onto his feet, but he keeps one hand on his arm just in case he loses his balance again. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Magic, dude, remember?” Stiles says, wiggling his fingers like he’s Sabrina. “I can get myself home.”

He’s swaying again before he even finishes his sentence, and Derek tightens his grip to keep him from face-planting in the grass.

“Leaving aside the fact that my nephew seems to have forgotten that he ran here,” Peter says, fishing his car keys out of his pocket and handing them over with a raised eyebrow, “he’s right. You’ve performed more than enough magic for one day, there’s no point in exhausting yourself when my car is right here. I’ll just tag along with Cora and the others.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles sighs and lets Derek steer him toward Peter’s car, and he doesn’t complain when Derek opens the door for him and eases him inside. He must be feeling pretty lousy to let Derek help him without complaint, but Derek’s not above taking advantage while he has the chance.

Stiles is quiet as they pull away from the house and onto the dirt road that leads back to town. He’s leaning against the door, forehead pressed to the glass and Derek half expects him to fall asleep. His eyes are open, though, and after a few minutes of silence pass Derek clears his throat.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles asks, but his voice sounds kind of far away, small and empty of the power that resonated through him when he was talking to Deucalion.

“You had to kill two people today, Stiles. That’s a lot for anyone.”

Stiles shrugs and closes his eyes, then he leans back against the seat. “Like I said, it was them or me.”

“I know,” Derek says, watching the trees rush past them for a few moments before he adds, “I’m glad you chose yourself.”

Stiles doesn’t ask why Derek might think he’d make any other choice. That’s something they’ve always understood about each other, even when they didn’t particularly like each other. They’re both the type of people to sacrifice everything for whoever needs it, but they don’t always do the same for themselves. Stiles has sacrificed for Derek more than once, and Derek knows he’ll keep doing it, at least if Derek can convince him to stay here on their land, where Derek can return the favor.

“Scott doesn’t get it,” Stiles finally says, and Derek scowls at the memory of Scott’s expression when he practically begged Stiles not to kill Deucalion. If anyone deserved to die it was him, but maybe living without his Alpha power was more punishment than a quick death.

“Scott still thinks the world is black and white. Someday he’ll find himself in a situation where he has to make a tough choice, and maybe he’ll finally realize that other people have been making the hard choices for him all along.”

Stiles huffs a tired laugh and lets his head roll toward Derek, opening his eyes to squint at him. “Don’t go asking for miracles, dude.”

Derek just rolls his eyes and bites back another smile. “Don’t call me dude.”

It gets him another laugh, and just for a second he can almost imagine that things are going to be okay. That maybe they’ll find their way out of this the way they have every other crazy situation that’s been thrown at them since the day they met, and maybe they’ll even be stronger for it.

“Why’d you let the twins go?” Derek asks before he realizes he’s thinking it.

Stiles shrugs and looks out the window again, watching as the trees melt into yards that signal the outskirts of Beacon Hills proper. “I’m pretty sure they weren’t down with the whole murder plan. I mean, they didn’t do anything to stop it or warn me, but I figured a little regret deserved a second chance. Anyway I doubt we’ll be seeing them again, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Derek nods, because he’s pretty sure Stiles is right about that. The twins won’t come back looking for revenge, not when Stiles let them walk away unharmed. It’s more than they deserve and they know it, but he’s right that they didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about killing him.

“Ethan wanted you as his mate. I heard him tell Deucalion when I was trying to find where they were holding you.”

Stiles laughs, but there’s no amusement in the sound. “Because I’m a Spark. It didn’t have anything to do with me.”

It’s true, but Derek can’t help being a little relieved that Stiles isn’t interested. He doesn’t have a right to be jealous, not after the way things have been between them, and especially when he still doesn’t know what he wants. But he breathes a little easier anyway as he eases Peter’s car onto Stiles’ street.

“So you can heal yourself now?”

“I mean, my magic can do a lot,” Stiles says, glancing down at his chest where it’s peeking through Derek’s jacket. “But the magic she used to activate the rune was too strong to get rid of it completely.”

His scent spikes with something -- worry, Derek thinks, though it’s hard to tell under all the blood -- and he frowns as he tries to figure out what Stiles is worried about. Another magic user’s power under his skin, maybe, or possibly he just doesn’t want a big scar in such a prominent place.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says when he pulls into the Stilinskis’ driveway and puts the car in park. “That we didn’t find you before she had the chance to do that to you.”

“To be honest, I didn’t really expect you to be looking at all,” Stiles says, and Derek knows he has good reason to feel that way, but he hates that Stiles thought it anyway. “So, you know, thanks. And, uh, sorry for almost fainting on you like some kind of bad romance novel character.”

That makes Derek finally crack a smile, and he doesn’t regret it when Stiles grins back at him. “It’s not the first time you’ve fainted on me. I had to carry you out of the temple and all the way through the jungle after Kate.”

“Right,” Stiles says, ducking his head, but Derek sees the tips of his ears turning red anyway. “Guess I forgot about that.”

“Understandable. There was a lot going on at the time.”

“Yeah.” Stiles pauses and glances up at the house, but Derek’s pretty sure that’s not what he’s seeing. “Anyway, thanks for the ride.”

He starts to pull Derek’s jacket off, but Derek reaches out a hand and rests it on his shoulder to stop him. “You can give it back to me later.”

He doesn’t want to think too hard about why he likes the idea of Stiles wearing his jacket so much, but he can’t help the pleased feeling coiling in his stomach when Stiles nods and shrugs it back on.

“Sure. I’ll see you later.”

“Stiles,” Derek says when he’s halfway out of the car, and Stiles leans back in to look at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

For a second he thinks that Stiles might actually admit that no, he’s definitely not okay. Why should he be, when he was kidnapped -- again -- and tortured -- again -- and the entire time he assumed no one would even look for him. Just the thought is enough to make Derek’s grip on the steering wheel tighten until the leather groans, and he has to force himself to let go.

Finally Stiles blinks at him, then he forces a smile that Derek doesn’t believe for a second. “I’m fine, big guy. You don't have to worry about me.”

Before Derek can answer he’s gone, letting himself into the house and shutting the door behind him, and Derek tells himself he’s only imagining the way it feels final somehow.


	26. Chapter 26

The first thing Stiles sees when he wakes up on Tuesday morning is Derek’s jacket where it’s still draped over the back of his chair. He gets up and goes through his morning routine, doing his best not to think about Derek and how weirdly nice he was being yesterday, and when he’s done he spends ten minutes talking himself into and then back out of wearing Derek’s jacket to school.

It’s not like Derek’s his boyfriend now. So he was a little nicer than usual yesterday, that doesn’t mean anything. It certainly doesn’t mean Stiles is going to start parading around school with Derek’s jacket on, not when he knows Erica would run straight to Derek and tell him. So it doesn’t matter that he feels safer somehow when he’s wrapped in the familiar scent of Derek, he doesn’t need protection and he’s not going to start relying on the comfort it gives him.

He forces himself downstairs, away from temptation, only to find his father sitting at the kitchen table in his uniform, looking stern. “Hey, Dad.”

“Son,” his father begins, and Stiles can tell by his tone that the conversation’s going nowhere good. “You want to tell me where you’ve been this time? Because I know the answer isn’t school.”

He can’t tell from his father’s expression if he’s angry or just over it. All he knows for sure is that there’s no point in lying anymore, and he’s too tired to come up with a believable story anyway.

“I was kidnapped by an evil druid. She wanted to sacrifice me and steal my magic to become, like, ultra evil, I guess. Anyway, I took care of it. She won’t be sacrificing people anymore.”

On any other day watching his father’s expression shift from disbelief to alarm to suspicion might be kind of funny, but it’s pretty clear he still thinks Stiles is lying, and then, once the truth sinks in, that he _hopes_ Stiles is lying. “By ‘took care of it’, you mean…”

They both know what he means. But the thing is, Stiles also knows that his father can’t handle the thought of his only son as some kind of magic vigilante, even if the people in question deserved to die. He doesn’t want to believe Stiles is capable of killing someone any more than Scott does, even if deep down his father’s always known what Stiles is capable of.

“I mean I took away her magic so she can never use it to hurt anyone again.”

Another lie, but at least it’s one they can both live with this time. His father’s still eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t reach for the handcuffs, so Stiles calls it a win.

“Are you okay? Do you need a doctor or anything?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” he answers, carefully not thinking about the rune carved into his chest. It’s not that noticeable unless you know to look for it, but Stiles can’t help thinking it’s ugly anyway. Just knowing it’s there makes him nervous, and he’s used some of his own magic to try to close any doors that might have been opened, but he knows he’s going to have to find a permanent solution soon.

He considered asking Deaton, after he got out of the shower the night before and spent far too long standing in front of the mirror staring at the faint pink lines in his skin. The problem is that he doesn’t trust Deaton, and frankly the thought of being around another druid right now makes him kind of nervous. He thought about going out into the forest to look for the Fae, but this isn’t the kind of magic they use, so he’s not sure they can help even if he manages to find the fairy ring again.

“Did all this have anything to do with those friends of yours?” his dad asks, the word ‘friends’ coming out like a curse.

“Not really? I mean, they were definitely going to kill all of them too, but I don’t think they would have showed up if it wasn’t for me. At least not so soon.”

“They? Who’s they?”

Stiles pauses and thinks about what he said, holding back a wince when he realizes that he could have gotten away with not mentioning the whole ‘evil Alphas’ part of the story. “The evil druid was working with a werewolf pack. They wanted to force Derek to kill all his betas and join them, but we took care of it. They won’t be back.”

His dad sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, and when he opens his eyes again he looks older than he did a few minutes ago. “Do you see why I don’t want you around this stuff? It’s too dangerous, kid. You were almost killed by _werewolves_ and I didn’t even know about it.”

“Technically it was the druid that tried to kill me,” Stiles says. “She wasn’t a werewolf.”

That gets him an exasperated look, and yeah, Stiles gets it. He’s not helping his father feel any better, but he’s not really sure how he’s supposed to do that. He can’t just stop being magic, not with the way the power’s thrumming through his veins even now, just waiting to be called upon. He can’t go back in time and stop Gerard from killing him and activating his Spark, and he can’t change the fact that people are going to keep coming after him.

“Just...go to school,” his dad says, and now he just looks disappointed. “I don’t want another call from them today. We’ll talk more about this tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says. He doesn’t bother with breakfast, doesn’t have much appetite after that particular conversation. Instead he swings his backpack over one shoulder and heads for the door, pausing long enough to pick up his keys from the table in the entryway. There’s an envelope lying next to them, and he almost passes it by before he realizes it’s got his name on it.

“Dad?” Stiles calls over his shoulder as he picks it up and examines the postmark. “Where did this letter come from?”

“It was in the mailbox yesterday,” his father answers. “Do I want to know why you’re getting letters from Massachusetts now?”

“No idea,” Stiles says, staring down at the envelope for another moment before he shoves it in his backpack. “I better go.”

“Straight to school and then straight home,” his dad calls after him, and Stiles waves an acknowledgement over his shoulder before he lets himself out of the house. It’s not like he has plans to go anywhere else; he’s not going to suddenly start hanging out at the loft with Derek’s pack like he belongs there, not after the way they all looked at him yesterday. Things with Derek were a little better than they have been lately, and Stiles is glad he’s trying to be a better Alpha, but that doesn’t change anything, not really.

He sighs when he pulls up in front of the school, staring at the front of the building for as long as he dares before he climbs out of the Jeep and grabs his backpack. It’s tempting to skip again, but he’s already missed a lot of school this semester and it’s pretty clear his father’s at the end of his rope. So Stiles trudges inside and reaches his first class with moments to spare, sliding into a seat at the back and ignoring the looks Scott and Isaac cast in his direction.

The whole morning goes pretty much the same way, with most of the pack looking at him like they’re expecting him to start blasting random things to dust any minute now, and Stiles pretending he doesn’t see them. It’s not a perfect system, but it works for him right up until just before lunch, when he tries to open the door to the library only to be yanked forcefully backwards.

“No hiding in the library today, Batman,” Erica says as Stiles finds his footing and turns to glare at her. “You’re sitting with the pack.”

“I’m not hiding,” Stiles says, which is mostly true. It’s not like he’s used his magic to keep them from finding him, it’s just that no one’s looked for him except Erica. “And I’m not Pack, I keep telling you.”

“And I keep telling you that you are,” Erica answers, her arm sliding through Stiles’ and holding on like she expects him to make a break for it on the way to the cafeteria. “You saved all of our lives yesterday. Everyone thinks of you as Pack, even if you don’t.”

He thinks back to the way they all looked at him yesterday, like they’d never seen him before, and knows that isn’t true. But Erica’s already dragging him through the cafeteria doors and forcing him down at the pack’s usual table, so there’s not much point in arguing. Boyd’s already there, and when Stiles sits down across from him he looks up and grunts a hello.

“This is kidnapping,” Stiles says.

“It’s easier just to go along with her,” Boyd says, the ghost of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to Stiles since Gerard’s basement, and the thought makes anger coil in the base of Stiles’ stomach. “Trust me.”

Stiles opens his mouth to say something he’ll probably regret, but before he gets the words out Scott and Allison are sitting down next to him, and Isaac’s sliding into a seat next to Boyd.

“Stiles, hey,” Scott says, eyes wide like he’s not really sure how to deal with the fact that his alleged best friend is sitting next to him. “How are you? I mean…”

“Don’t strain yourself, Scotty,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and wishing Erica wasn’t still sitting on his other side, hand hovering near his arm like she’s expecting him to bolt at any moment.

“No, I mean, it’s just...you haven’t sat with us in a while,” Scott says, then he glances across the table at Isaac, and Stiles feels his stomach twist again.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my idea,” Stiles mutters. He glances over at Erica and scowls when she just raises an eyebrow in challenge, like she thinks she’s Derek all of a sudden. “Are you happy? Can I go now?”

“No,” Erica answers, her arm threading through his again and making it nearly impossible for either of them to actually eat any lunch. “You’re Pack, and it’s time you start acting like it. Derek said…”

“Time _I_ start acting like it?” Stiles interrupts, because he doesn’t really give a damn what Derek has to say on the subject anymore. “Are you kidding me?”

Erica’s expression softens minutely, but a second later she catches herself and flashes her usual smirk. “No, I’m not kidding. You’re ours, and we’re not letting you go. Derek’s already refused a bunch more courtship offers. There’s no way we’re letting anybody take you away from us.”

“Wait, he what?” Stiles asks, the anger that’s been steadily rising inside him making his magic stir restlessly under his skin. He feels his fingertips spark and sees Isaac flinch out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t worry about that right now. “He has no right.”

“What does it matter?” Scott says. “I mean, it’s not like you’re going to accept any of them, right?”

“I don’t know, Scott, since I haven’t actually seen any of them,” Stiles says. He’s not even sure why he’s so mad, because the truth is he’s not in any hurry to entertain any more courtship offers after the last time. But the fact that Derek didn’t even bother to ask before he started refusing people means he doesn’t give a damn about Stiles’ opinion, doesn’t even respect him enough to ask.

It’s no surprise that Derek thinks he knows what’s best for Stiles, but he’d really hoped that after everything that’s happened in the past few weeks that Derek was at least _trying_. He’d hoped that Derek was starting to see that Stiles can take care of himself, even if no one else has caught on yet.

“You’d really leave?” Erica asks, eyes narrowed, and he can tell she’s trying to look mad, but he can see how hurt she is at the thought. He wants to be flattered that she cares that much if he sticks around, but the truth is that none of them would have noticed if he’d left just a few weeks ago. They’ve all been caught up in their own thing for so long that they didn’t have any time for him, and the only reason they’re paying attention now is because he’s finally figured out how to use his magic.

“I don’t have a lot of reason to stick around here, do I?” is all he says, and when none of them try to argue, he tells himself it doesn’t matter. He pulls his arm out of Erica’s grip and stands up, grabbing his backpack and turning on his heel before any of them can stop him.

He’s nearly out of the cafeteria when someone steps in front of him, and Stiles stops himself just before he uses his magic to blast whoever it is out of the way. When he focuses long enough to realize it’s Jackson he thinks about blasting him anyway, but there are way too many witnesses around for him to get away with it.

“What?” he grinds out from between gritted teeth, just barely holding his magic in check.

“Heard you went supernova and killed a couple of people yesterday,” Jackson says with a malicious smirk. “How long do you think Derek’s going to keep a murderer around?”

“He’s let you hang around all this time, hasn’t he?” Stiles snaps, and when Jackson flinches like he’s been slapped he counts it as a victory.

It takes him a second, but Jackson pulls himself together and narrows his eyes at Stiles. “You really think he’s going to choose you over a werewolf? I’m his first beta.”

“You’re the second biggest mistake he’s ever made, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

Jackson stumbles backwards a step, then another, and it takes a second for Stiles to realize it’s his magic pushing him backwards. He doesn’t try to stop it, mainly because he doesn’t want to deal with Jackson anymore. He’s pissed at Derek and Scott and even his dad, and he just wants to be done with all of this.

He feels the hurt and anger building up inside him, wrapping around his magic and pulling it even closer to the surface. Someone’s saying his name, but he can’t focus on the voice long enough to figure out who it is or what they want. He’s too focused on Jackson, whose eyes are glowing and claws starting to drop like they’re not in the middle of a cafeteria full of people who don’t know anything about the supernatural. Like he actually thinks he can take on Stiles and win, even knowing what Stiles did just yesterday.

“You’re nothing but a bully,” Stiles hisses, disdain dripping from his voice. “You’re a bully and a coward and you don’t deserve to be Pack.”

Before he can stop himself he reaches inside Jackson with his magic, feeling around for his wolf the same way he’d sought out Deucalion’s power. When he finds it he lets his magic surround it, then he tugs until the tether connecting it to Jackson breaks. Jackson gasps, eyes shining as he falls to his knees, and Stiles takes a step backwards and watches as he tries to work out what happened.

Jackson’s hand comes up to clutch at his chest, then he lifts it in front of him and tries to shift his claws. But there’s nothing there, just blunt human nails and what Stiles guesses is a hollow feeling.

He hears someone shout Jackson’s name, then the click of heels as Lydia hurries across the cafeteria toward him. She looks up at Stiles as she crouches down next to him, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed. “What did you do?”

“Gave him a firsthand demonstration of what happened yesterday,” Stiles answers. He ignores the pack standing behind him, heading out of the cafeteria and to the nearest bathroom where hopefully no one will follow him. He thinks about just bailing on the rest of his classes and going home, but he knows if he does that someone will call his dad, and he doesn’t think he can stand to see any more disappointment on his father’s face today.

When he gets there the bathroom’s empty, and he tosses his backpack across the room in a vain attempt to dispel some of his rage. All that happens is the zipper on his backpack breaking, and the contents of the bag spill out on the floor. Stiles huffs a frustrated breath and crosses the room, using his magic to gather up his books and fix the zipper. He’s nearly shoved everything back in the bag when something catches his eye, and he glances toward the sinks and spots the letter he picked up that morning lying under the one closest to the windows.

Stiles picks it up and sinks to the floor under the window, sliding the envelope open and pulling out a single sheet of thick writing paper, covered on both sides with slanted handwriting. He thinks of all the courtship offers Derek’s taken it upon himself to refuse already and huffs another angry sigh, then he settles against the wall and starts to read.

* * *

If anyone was around to ask, Derek wouldn’t be able to say why he’s so restless. It started the day before when he dropped Stiles off at his house, and it hasn’t let up since. And it’s nothing, just a vague feeling that something’s not right, but he hasn’t been able to settle and twice already he’s had to stop himself from running over to the high school just to check on the pack.

His bonds with this pack have never been that strong, not like the ones he had with his family. He understands now that he did it on purpose, kept his betas at arm’s length so he wouldn’t run the risk of getting hurt again. It means he can’t feel them as clearly as an Alpha should be able to, and Jackson’s bond has always been the weakest of all. He should be the strongest, considering he’s the first wolf Derek made, but Jackson’s denied the pack bonds even more forcefully than Derek since the minute he was bitten, so it’s no surprise the bond is weak.

It’s weak, but Derek still feels it when the bond snaps, his restless pacing interrupted when he staggers and has to catch himself on the corner of the table. At first he thinks Deucalion’s back, that he didn’t leave town after all and he sought his revenge on the member of the Hale Pack with the weakest link to Derek. He’s running out of the loft before he realizes what’s happening, ignoring Cora’s surprised shout from the living room where she’s messing around on her phone instead of working on the online classes they enrolled her in when they got back to town.

He drives as fast as he dares to the school, heart in his throat as he runs through all the potential dangers his betas could be facing. When he pulls up out front everything looks calm, but as he’s climbing out of his car the doors swing open and Jackson staggers out with Lydia by his side. The rest of the pack is trailing after him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and fear.

“What the hell happened?”

“That little freak lost his goddamn mind,” Jackson snarls, though it doesn’t sound right, and it takes Derek a few moments to realize that he smells off, too. He smells...human, but that can’t be right. “You better fix this, Hale, or I swear to God…”

“What are you going to do, sue him for breach of contract?” Erica says. “It doesn’t work like that, genius.”

“Would somebody just tell me what’s going on?” Derek growls, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Stiles totally lost it,” Isaac pipes up, fear in his voice. “He called Jackson a bully and said he was your second biggest mistake, then he did that thing where his eyes glow and the next thing we know, Jackson’s human again.”

Derek manages not to flinch at the mention of his mistakes, but it’s a near thing. He has no doubt that Stiles knows exactly what Derek’s biggest mistake is, and he doesn’t want his pack hearing about it. It’s bad enough that Allison and maybe Scott already know too; the rest of the pack haven’t put two and two together, and Derek wants to keep it that way for as long as he can.

And the thing is, it’s not like Derek really disagrees with Stiles. He’s regretted biting Jackson pretty much from the start, and there have been plenty of times over the past year that he’s wished they’d just killed him when he was still a Kanima. Jackson wanted the power of being a werewolf, but he’s never understood or wanted any part of pack life, not like the others. The rest of his betas all craved the sense of belonging that comes with being part of a pack, and even Scott’s come around, if his friendship with Isaac is any indication.

But Jackson never wanted acceptance or belonging, at least not from Derek. Maybe it’s what he needs, and maybe with a stronger Alpha he could have figured that out. But he’s resisted Derek since the beginning and been the one to constantly drive the biggest wedge between the others, so Derek can’t say he’s sorry Stiles did what he did. Still, it wasn’t his call to make, and Derek knows they’re going to have to have an uncomfortable conversation about it.

“Where is Stiles?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jackson says, but Derek ignores him and focuses on the others.

“I don’t know, still inside somewhere,” Scott answers. “I tried to stop him but he just took off. He was already pretty pissed before Jackson started in on him about being a murderer.”

“What,” Derek snarls, voice low and flat and dangerous as he turns on Jackson, but it’s Lydia who answers.

“Allison told us what happened yesterday. Jackson confronted him about it.” She rolls her eyes like she’s bored of the subject already, but Derek can smell the fear rolling off of her.

He spares a glare for Allison, which just makes Scott glare right back and draw her closer to his side. He doesn’t understand Allison’s need to go running to Lydia with every bit of information about the pack, especially considering all the problems it causes every time she does it. Arguing about it won’t change what happened, though, so he tables that conversation for later.

“Stiles didn’t murder anyone. What he did was save all of you from being murdered at the hands of the Alpha Pack, and he made sure they’d never hurt another pack again.”

“Yeah, but he’s out of control, Derek,” Isaac says. “Look what he did to Jackson. Is he going to do that to the rest of us if we say something he doesn’t like?”

The truth is Derek doesn’t have an answer for that. Have they really pushed Stiles that far, or was what he did to Jackson just his idea of righting a wrong, the same way he’d done with Deucalion and Ennis? The only thing he knows for sure is that Stiles needs help figuring out how to control his power, and Derek has no idea where to start.

“Are you going to fix this or not?” Jackson asks, shoving away from Lydia to stand in front of Derek. His jaw’s clenched and he’s wearing the same determined expression he had the first time he demanded the bite, but the fear’s still there too, and Derek knows it would be a terrible idea to bite him again, even if he thought it would work right this time.

“After what happened the first time?” he says, doing his best to be gentle, because he knows the Kanima wasn’t really Jackson’s fault. If anyone’s to blame it’s Derek, for biting someone he never would have if he hadn’t been pumped full of Alpha power and driven to make a pack. Besides, he's not even sure what would happen if he tried to bite Jackson again, if it would turn him into a Kanima again or just kill him. Or maybe nothing would happen at all; Stiles said he bound Deucalion's wolf so he couldn't steal another Alpha spark, didn't he? If he bound Jackson the same way then the only thing that would happen when Derek bit him was a messy puncture wound.

For a few seconds Jackson just stares at him like he’s waiting to hear the punchline. When it doesn't come his eyes narrow and his jaw twitches, hands curled into fists even though he’s not even close to being a threat to Derek anymore. When he storms away Lydia scurries after him, but Jackson shoves away the comforting hand she rests on his arm and doesn’t look back as he climbs into his Porsche and speeds away.

“So that’s it?” Lydia says when she turns around again, eyes glassy and narrowed in Derek’s direction. “Stiles just does what he wants and you have nothing to say about it?”

“No.” Derek sighs and runs a hand over his face, glancing past the pack toward the school where Stiles is probably stewing over what Jackson said and maybe even starting to believe he really is a murderer. “Stiles was right, biting Jackson was a mistake. But he still should have talked to me about it before he took Jackson’s wolf.”

“That’s what he said about you refusing his courtship offers,” Boyd says, voice steady, but Derek can hear a hint of judgment in his words.

“That’s what he was pissed about when Jackson cornered him and started in on how you wouldn’t keep a murderer around for much longer,” Erica adds, apologetic, which tells Derek exactly how Stiles found out about the courtship offers in the first place. “He said you had no right to refuse without talking to him.”

And that’s just great, because that means Stiles losing his temper and taking it out on Jackson is Derek’s fault too. Technically it is his right to refuse offers of courtship when it involves a member of his pack, but he knows exactly what Stiles would say if Derek said that out loud. He doesn’t consider himself Pack, no matter what Derek says, and if Derek keeps messing up, maybe he never will.

It’s just that the thought of Stiles willingly severing their bond so he can leave for good sends a hollow feeling to the pit of Derek’s stomach that he can’t understand, and until he figures it out he wants to keep Stiles close. If that means refusing a few offers Stiles probably wouldn’t consider anyway, he doesn’t see the harm. Except that now Stiles is back to not trusting him, and any progress they made yesterday feels like it’s ruined.

He holds back the whine that wants to escape, because the last thing he needs is to give his betas more to gossip about. They’ve already been speculating about his bond with Stiles and what it means, especially since Cora went and declared Stiles his mate. They don’t need any more ammunition, not about something that’s between him and Stiles.

Derek glances at the school again, but he can’t pick out Stiles’ heartbeat through all the noise in the building. “I’ll talk to him. The rest of you go back to class.”

“But…”

“I mean it,” Derek growls. “You already left early yesterday, your parents are going to start asking questions if the school starts calling.”

They grumble about it, but they start heading toward the school. Isaac lingers longest, jaw set like he wants to say something, but when Derek raises an eyebrow at him he just shakes his head and turns away. Once they’re gone Derek lets out a sigh, then he turns and heads back to his car. He needs to talk to Stiles, but first he needs to figure out what he’s going to say, and that means there’s no point in hanging around the school waiting for him to come out.

Instead he heads back to the loft to fill Cora in and maybe ask her advice. That’s not something he would have dreamed of doing just a year ago, but he’s starting to see that he can’t do any of this on his own.


	27. Chapter 27

When Stiles reaches the end of the letter he starts again from the beginning, then he reads it a third time, just to be sure. By the time he’s done he’s given up on the idea of attending his afternoon classes, but instead of heading home he points the Jeep in the direction of the Sheriff’s office.

Tara’s manning the front desk, and Stiles smiles when he sees her in spite of the nervous energy making him even more jittery than usual. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but something about this decision just feels _right_ , especially after kind of losing it with Jackson. It shouldn’t even be a tough sell with his father, not when he’s been wanting to get Stiles away from the pack since he found out about the supernatural.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Tara asks, eyes narrowed like she thinks he’s up to something.

“It’s an emergency,” Stiles says, glancing past her toward the hall that leads to the Sheriff’s office. “Is he in?”

“I think he’s on the phone, but you can go back and wait if you want,” Tara answers. “I sure hope your emergency is life or death, kiddo. He’s been on the warpath all morning.”

Stiles frowns, wondering if his father’s mood is somehow his fault, but he thanks Tara and heads further into the station. 

When he reaches his dad’s office he’s just hanging up the phone, and when he looks up and spots Stiles his frowns and glances at the clock. “What are you doing here, Stiles?”

“I need to talk to you,” Stiles answers, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him.

“You’re supposed to be in school,” his dad says. “You’re not going to pass the year if you keep skipping.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Remember that letter?”

“I don’t have time for this right now.” His dad lets out an exasperated sigh and scrubs a hand over his face in a gesture Stiles knows means he’s out of patience. “Go back to school. We’ll talk about this when I get home.”

“Wait, Dad, would you just listen? Something happened with my magic today and…”

“Damn it, Stiles, I asked you to stay out of trouble for one day.” 

“I’m not in any trouble, Dad,” he says, which is mostly true. He’s pretty sure Derek will be pissed when he finds out what happened to Jackson, but Stiles is pretty pissed at Derek, so he doesn’t really care. “Look, there’s this guy in Massachusetts, he’s a professor at Amherst. He says he can help me.”

“Help you what, exactly?” his dad asks, eyes narrowed in that way Stiles knows means he thinks Stiles isn’t telling him the whole truth. Which he isn’t, exactly, but does his dad really need to know about the power boost he got from the Nemeton, or the way he dealt with Jackson?

“With my magic,” Stiles answers. “It’s getting stronger, and I need someone to help me figure out how to control it.”

For a long moment his father just looks at him, expression shifting from calculating to worried to something Stiles can’t read. “Why is this all happening now, anyway?”

“What?”

“All this magic business,” his father says, gesturing around him like he’s trying to encompass the past few weeks’ worth of supernatural bullshit. “I mean, if you’re this powerful magician or whatever, why couldn’t it have helped…”

He stops himself before he can finish the sentence, eyes wide like he’s surprised he said it out loud. But he doesn’t have to finish, because Stiles knows exactly what he’s asking. If he’s so powerful, why couldn’t he save his mother from dying? Why did he have to develop these powers now, where they’re only good for getting him into more trouble?

“You want to know how my Spark got ignited, Dad?” Stiles asks, blinking a few times against the sudden stinging in his eyes. “I died. Gerard Argent grabbed me off the lacrosse field and tortured me to send a message to Scott. Only he went a little too far, and when my Spark brought me back to life, suddenly I had all this magic I had no idea what to do with.”

“You...what?”

He regrets saying it the second the words are out of his mouth, because he doesn’t really blame his dad. Not when he’s spent years blaming himself for his mother’s death too, and even knowing that she doesn’t blame him hasn’t erased the guilt that comes along with thinking about her.

“I have to go,” he says, turning on his heel and pulling the door open.

“Son, wait,” his dad calls after him, and Stiles pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Look, you don’t have to go to Ohio, okay? We can work this out together. If you just stay away from those...friends of yours…”

“I’m not going to Ohio.”

“Good, that’s good,” his dad says, and Stiles doesn’t have to look to know he’s rubbing a hand over the back of his neck while he tries to figure out how to apologize for finally voicing Stiles’ single biggest fear. “You can just get through the rest of the semester and then…”

“I’m not staying here either,” Stiles interrupts, then he’s moving, his magic propelling him out of the station faster than his father can keep up. 

He hops in the Jeep and points it toward home, driving as fast as he dares to keep ahead of his dad. When he gets there he lets himself in and runs up the stairs, not bothering to lock his bedroom door. It's not like his father will be able to stop him, even if he wants to, and Stiles isn't all that sure he does. He pauses, scrubbing angrily at his wet eyes for a few moments before he looks around his room to take stock. There are books he can’t leave behind, mostly gifts from the Fae, and one or two he found online. He pulls out a bag and shoves in clothes and his laptop, using his magic to make his toiletries appear in the bag next to his spare sneakers. He tucks some herbs and his supply of mountain ash in the bag, then he boxes up his books as carefully as he can with shaking hands.

When he’s finished he looks around his room again, picking up a picture of his parents with him at his seventh birthday, right before everything started to fall apart. He starts to tuck it into his bag, but the memory of his father’s face when he asks why Stiles didn’t save her makes him swallow hard and set the picture back down on his shelf. He wants to believe his dad didn’t mean it, that he hasn’t really been blaming Stiles all this time, but his dad’s had plenty of time to come after him and try to get him to stay, and there’s been no sign of him.

The pack is either afraid of him or just doesn’t care, Derek’s probably mad now because Stiles went over his head, and his own father blames him for not saving his mother’s life. There’s nothing here for Stiles anymore, not even someone to help him figure out what’s going on with his magic.

His gaze falls on Derek’s jacket, still hanging over the back of his chair. He knows he should send it back to its owner, or at the very least leave it here for Derek to find. But Massachusetts is a lot colder than California, and it’s not like he owns a winter coat. In the end he shrugs it on, doing his best to ignore the way Derek’s scent surrounds and settles him somehow.

He sighs and pulls the letter out of his backpack again, fingers tracing the return address printed neatly on the back of the envelope. “I hope you meant it when you said ‘any time’, dude,” he whispers, then he closes his eyes and _believes_ that when he opens them again, he and his luggage will be standing on the doorstep of someone he’s never met before.

* * *

When Derek gets home he finds Peter already there, keeping Cora company while she checks her phone every few seconds. He assumes she’s waiting for word from him, but he didn’t even stop long enough to grab his phone when he felt the bond with Jackson snap. Now that he knows what happened he feels bad for making her worry, but it’s not as though she’s ever liked Jackson.

“What the hell, Derek?”

“Sorry,” Derek says as he drops his keys on the coffee table. “My bond with Jackson broke and I just reacted.”

They both suck in a sharp breath, hands flying to their chests at the memory of an entire pack’s worth of bonds breaking. “He’s not…”

“No,” Derek assures them. “Apparently he got in Stiles’ face again and Stiles showed him exactly what happened to Deucalion. Only Jackson was bitten, so instead of just taking his Alpha power he turned him human again.”

“Good lord,” Peter says, but it sounds more awed than judgmental.

“Serves him right,” Cora adds. “He was a terrible werewolf.”

Derek can’t disagree, but it’s still a little disconcerting to think about Stiles taking matters into his own hands that way. The fact that he has that much power over Derek’s betas, or any bitten wolf for that matter, seems dangerous.

“I know biting Jackson was a mistake and I can’t say I’m sorry he’s gone, but don’t you think it was a little over the top for Stiles to make that decision?”

Cora looks indignant, but Peter just sighs as though Derek’s completely hopeless. “It’s so easy to forget how little you know, and then you open your mouth.”

Derek’s warning growl just makes him roll his eyes, but he settles a little further into his chair, and Derek knows he’s enjoying this. “Traditionally Sparks have acted as sort of...supernatural enforcers, if you will. It’s likely what Stiles did to Jackson today was as much instinct as it was conscious thought. You heard the way he spoke to Deucalion yesterday; those words were part of a ritual, one I doubt he memorized during his time with the Fae.”

“So Stiles is like a supernatural cop?” Derek says, and he wants to laugh, but the truth is that it’s oddly fitting.

“Yes and no,” Peter answers. “This territory is his in the same way that it’s ours, yes? We come from it and we’ve bled for it. His magic is tied to the land, and it’s his magic that directs him to weed out any less than savory elements. It’s a bit like Deaton and his infernal balance, I suppose, except that Sparks don’t try to balance anything. They simply keep their land safe from whatever threats might come along.”

“I thought that was what the Hale Pack was supposed to do.”

“Indeed, which is why Talia wanted Stiles bound to our pack. With a Spark on our side we would have been nearly untouchable.”

It’s like a punch to the gut, knowing that he’s the reason Stiles wasn’t tied to their pack, at least not in any way that mattered. If his Spark had been ignited earlier he might have been able to save Derek’s entire family. And if Derek hadn’t been such a brat when they first met, there might have been nothing to save them from in the first place.

“But does that give him the right to do whatever he wants? Shouldn’t he have at least consulted me?”

Peter sighs as though Derek’s completely missing the point. Or maybe he’s just annoyed at having to teach Derek all these things he should have learned from his mother, if he’d paid any attention to her lessons when he was a kid.

“As I said, chances are good he was acting on instinct. Of course, if he was properly bonded to his anchor, that bond would have tempered his response. He might have even sought the counsel of his Alpha before he took action. But since he’s learned to rely on neither of those things, his magic is his only guide. It’s dangerous, Derek.”

“Dangerous how?” 

“Dangerous in the sense that his magic is only going to grow with his connection to the land, and he has no idea what to do with it. Most of what he’s done so far has been instinct, nothing more, and eventually he’ll find himself in a situation where his instinct won’t save him from getting hurt, or from hurting someone who doesn’t deserve it. He won’t come back from that.”

The thought of Stiles losing enough control to hurt someone he cares about makes Derek’s stomach churn. He doesn’t want to lose Stiles to his own power. He doesn’t want to lose Stiles at all, but he’d rather Stiles was happy and in control and bonded to someone else than to burn himself up from the inside.

“What do I do? I don’t know any magic users to help him, let alone another Spark. Deaton’s been less than trustworthy since I came back, and even if I wanted to ask for his help, Stiles is furious at me right now.”

“I thought you two were getting along better,” Cora says.

“We were,” Derek admits, thinking back to the day before and dropping Stiles off at his father’s house. “I thought...but today Erica told him I’ve been refusing more offers to court him. He said I had no right.”

Peter makes a noncommittal humming sound, which Derek’s pretty sure means he knows something he’s not sharing. “You think I should have told him?”

“I doubt it will matter, in the long run,” Peter answers. “He wasn’t going to accept any of those offers, though the one from the colony of succubi was certainly intriguing.”

Derek and Cora both let out a shudder at the thought of the source of Peter’s intrigue. Derek certainly doesn’t want to imagine Stiles as the magical energy source for a bunch of sex demons, even if it would help keep them away from innocent humans. There’s a part of him he tries hard not to think about that likes the fact that Stiles is still untouched, and the last thing he wants to picture is Stiles losing his innocence to creatures that literally feed on lust.

“You’re deranged,” Cora says, laughing, and Peter smirks right back at her.

“Please, I’d have made him an offer myself if I thought he’d consider it for even a moment.”

The growl escapes Derek before he can stop it, but it only makes the two of them laugh a little harder. “Relax, Derek, no one’s going to turn your Spark into a magical sex slave, and there certainly won’t be any more attempts to steal his power. I’ve taken steps.”

“What does that mean?” Derek asks, claws itching to come out, because Peter might be getting better since Cora’s back, but he’s still _Peter_.

“It means that in spite of what you might think, I do care about what happens to this pack. I’m aware of my failures as an Alpha, though to be fair, I think we can place all of the blame for that squarely on Kate Argent’s shoulders.”

When Derek flinches Peter fixes him with a knowing look. “Kate Argent’s shoulders and no one else’s, Nephew. Remember that.”

Derek gives a short nod and steals a glance at Cora, but she doesn’t look confused or even all that concerned. He wonders how much she’s pieced together, if she knows the truth already and she’s just waiting for him to confess. The thought makes him want to run far and fast and never look back, but he knows if he’s ever going to be the kind of Alpha his pack deserves, he’s going to have to find a way to let go of all the guilt he’s been carrying around since the fire.

“He’s right, Derek,” Cora says, and Derek flinches again at the sadness in her eyes. “Whatever Kate did, _she_ did it, no one else. We just have to find a way to move forward.”

He nods again, gaze fixed on his hands where they’re clasped in front of him, and waits for the lump in his throat to subside. He hasn’t cried since the day the fire took his family and he’s not planning to start now, but this is the closest call he’s had in awhile.

“Okay,” he finally says, and if he sniffs a little suspiciously, neither of them point it out. “I need to go apologize to Stiles and make sure he’s okay. Then I should probably track down Jackson and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know,” Derek admits, but the last thing he wants is for Jackson to go after Stiles again and get himself killed. “Do you think it’s possible to bite him again? It didn’t exactly go well the first time.”

“You would bite him again?” Cora asks, eyes narrowed.

“No, I already told you I’m just as happy to have him out of the pack,” Derek answers. “But he asked, and I want to know what to tell him if he decides he wants to try to find another pack somewhere.”

“I doubt it would go any better the second time,” Peter says. “He hasn’t dealt with the issues that made him a Kanima in the first place, after all. So any pack he might approach would have to be warned.”

Derek nods and stands up, rubbing his hands on his thighs and letting out a deep breath. He’s not exactly looking forward to the conversation with Stiles, but he’s looking even less forward to dealing with Jackson.

“When you see Stiles, tell him to expect a letter from a friend of mine,” Peter adds as he stands up to follow Derek out of the loft.

“Since when do you have friends?” Derek says without any real heat.

“You wound me, Nephew,” Peter answers, pressing a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Though now that we’re on the subject, you should be expecting a call as well.”

“A call from who?” Derek asks, narrowing his eyes, because he trusts Peter not to hurt Stiles intentionally, but the same doesn’t necessarily go for Derek himself.

“As I said, I’ve taken steps. Stiles isn't the only one in need of guidance,” Peter says, then he crosses the living room without offering any further explanation. Derek considers going after him and roughing him up until he stops being so cryptic, but he knows it won’t do any good. Peter’s always liked a show, even back before the fire when he was a more or less normal person.

“Do you have any idea what that was about?” Derek asks Cora when Peter’s gone, but she just shakes her head and goes back to her phone.

“Perfect,” Derek mutters. He reaches for his jacket before he remembers that Stiles has it, so he just pockets his keys and promises to pick up dinner on his way back before he heads out the door.


	28. Chapter 28

He’s never been to the east coast before, so Stiles isn’t sure what to expect. What he gets is something that looks like it popped out of the pages of a book on colonial history. His magic deposits him in front of a big white house with green shutters and a neat walkway leading from the sidewalk to a bright red front door. The street is lined with similar houses painted in a variety of colors, with wide lawns and bare trees. Everything looks neat and well cared for, and he looks around to make sure no one spotted him appearing out of thin air before he turns back to the house in front of him.

A cold wind bites at his cheeks, and he tugs Derek’s jacket a little closer as he heads up the path. He’s still not sure if he’s making the right decision, but right now anything seems better than staying in Beacon Hills. He doesn't feel welcome there, and it makes him furious, his magic rolling under his skin when his anger stirs again. Beacon Hills is _his_ , the place he was born and the place that claimed him and his magic as its own. Stiles should never be made to feel unwelcome there, should never be forced to run from the very seat of his power.

The thought takes him by surprise, like it's not exactly him who's feeling it but the magic inside him. He shakes it off with an effort, then he starts up the walk to the house. He lifts his hand to knock just as the door swings open to reveal a man around Peter’s age, maybe a little older. He’s got sandy brown hair, a little shaggy and stopping just above his collar, and lines around his eyes that imply he smiles a lot. Stiles has been picturing a bald guy in a wheelchair since he read the letter the first time, but he finds himself glad that this guy looks so ordinary.

“Professor Thoreaux?”

“Corbin, please,” he says, extending a hand for Stiles to shake. “Mr. Stilinski, I presume?”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles,” Corbin repeats with a smile. “That’s certainly easier than the name I was given by our mutual friend. Please, come in.”

Stiles frowns at the thought that whoever sent him here knows his real name. _No one_ should know his name except his dad, and he definitely didn’t arrange this. 

“Was it the Fae who told you about me?” he asks, remembering the way Morgana had said his name like she’d been doing it all his life.

“No,” Corbin says, “though I heard Queen Morgana had taken an interest in you. It’s good to have powerful allies.”

Stiles leaves his luggage by the door and follows his host further into the house. He’s starting to feel a little strange about the whole situation; nothing about the guy or his place _feels_ dangerous, but if his letter was true, he’s also a Spark, so he could be hiding his intentions with magic.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m starting to freak out a little. How do you know so much about me?”

“My apologies,” Corbin says, his smile sheepish and something about it makes Stiles relax a little. “I don’t mean to be cryptic, it’s just that the person who contacted me about you seemed a bit worried that you might not trust me if you knew that we were...acquainted.”

“It wasn’t Deaton, was it? Near as I can tell that guy wouldn’t cross the street to put me out if I was on fire, not unless I was standing next to Scott at the time.”

“Alan Deaton, the druid?” Corbin asks, frowning. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever met him. Of course I’ve heard of him; given the way rumors travel in the supernatural world it would be impossible not to.”

“Deaton’s famous?”

Corbin gestures toward a comfortable-looking couch in a sunny room, and Stiles takes a seat and watches Corbin do the same in the overstuffed chair across from him. There’s a fireplace to his right, a bright fire crackling and making him shiver from the sudden warmth. There’s a deep red rug over honey-colored wood floors made of well-worn, wide planks, and everything about the room screams ‘comfort’.

“I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘famous’, exactly,” Corbin answers with a wry smile. “But news of what happened to the Hales spread...well, like wildfire, if you’ll pardon the tasteless pun, and it didn’t take long for whispers of who their emissary had been and why he hadn’t done anything to save them began.”

“Huh.” Stiles had wondered himself, of course, when he first learned about werewolves and they figured out how Deaton fit into all of it. But there have been bigger things to worry about pretty much non-stop since then, so he hasn’t given it much thought. To know that the entire supernatural world was whispering about it gives him even more reason to distrust Deaton, and he’s glad that’s not who sent him to Corbin.

“Wait, so if it wasn’t Deaton…” Stiles scowls when he gets it, and when Corbin laughs he knows he’s right. “Fucking Peter. How the hell does he know my real name?”

“I can’t say I know him well, but his reputation has always led me to believe that he’s quite resourceful. He was Talia Hale’s enforcer, after all.”

Talia’s enforcer, her Left Hand, the one who knows every skeleton people keep in their closets and exactly which ones to rattle to get what he needs. Stiles has read enough about pack dynamics to know exactly what kind of enforcer Peter was, and he’s not even all that surprised that Peter knows more about him than he’s ever let on.

“So if you don’t know him, why are you doing him a favor?”

Corbin shakes his head and sits forward in his chair, elbows braced on his knees and fixing Stiles with a serious expression. 

“I’m not doing Peter Hale any favors. I told you in my letter that I’m a Spark, and that the circumstances of my Spark being activated were quite unusual. There are very few of us in the world, and only five in the United States. Two of them are...retired isn’t exactly the right term, but they’ve both reached an age where they prefer to keep to themselves and stay out of supernatural politics. The third is bonded to a nest of vampires, and frankly the less said about them the better. 

“The fourth is me, and then of course there’s you. So you can see why Peter chose to contact me, and why I agreed to help you, even though I don’t owe either of you anything. If you find you’re not comfortable here I could call Magdalena; she’s bonded to one of the Fae, though she never accepted their offer of immortality. She’s living in Maine, on several acres near the Canadian border. I think she spends a lot of time knitting these days.”

He grins and Stiles finds himself smiling back. He can’t deny that he’s sort of intrigued by some badass Spark who’s bonded to a Fae yet chooses to live alone in the wilderness.

“Pretty sure I don’t have the patience for knitting,” he says. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re willing to put me up and teach me.”

“Because I’ve been in your shoes,” Corbin answers, as though he’s been expecting the question. “When I was six years old, I was stolen from my family and forcibly bonded to a magic user who wanted the power of a Spark at his disposal. For ten years he kept me more or less enslaved. I didn’t go to school, I didn’t see my parents, and once he ignited my Spark using his own magic, we were tied together so tightly that I couldn’t refuse him anything.”

Corbin pauses and looks away, staring into the fireplace even though it’s obvious that’s not what he’s seeing. Stiles does his best to suppress a shudder at the thought of a little kid, just a year younger than he was when he accidentally bonded to Derek, being kidnapped and forced into some fucked up relationship with an evil wizard.

“Part of our bond meant that he had access to my power. It was like being drained, little by little, and it went on for ten years. It wasn’t until I was sixteen and met the woman I’d eventually marry that I was able to understand what was happening to me, let alone begin to search for a way to break the bond.”

The longer Stiles listens to him talking, the more his stomach sinks. His own bond is kind of a mess, sure, but it’s nothing like what Corbin’s describing. What he’s talking about, what happened to him, it’s basically rape, and the fact that someone could do that to a little kid makes Stiles want to puke.

“How did you break the bond?”

“In my case? I killed him,” Corbin answers, matter-of-fact.

“Okay,” Stiles says, doing his best not to flinch at the thought of killing Derek to break the bond. “Understandable, considering. But there’s another way, right? I mean, my bond was rejected pretty much as soon as it formed, but I don’t want him dead or anything.”

“I’m not suggesting you kill your bondmate,” Corbin says, his smile reassuring. “In my case it wasn’t entirely intentional anyway. But Peter did explain to me some of the circumstances of your situation, and that’s why I contacted you. I didn’t have a properly settled bond until I broke the original bond and bonded with my wife. As a result my power grew unchecked, and eventually I was nearly as out of control as I would have been without a bond. Peter seems to fear that something similar will happen to you.”

That explains some of the things that have happened in the past few days, like the way his magic has acted more or less on its own. So far it hasn’t done anything he didn’t approve of, but he remembers the rolling anger that wasn't exactly his own, and the way the words he'd spoken to Deucalion felt like a ritual rather than something he'd come up with on his own. The thought of losing himself to those feelings scares him as much as the thought of hurting someone, and he swallows hard and nods.

“I need to settle my bond with Derek or I need to find someone else to bond to. Yeah, I gathered that much from the books the Fae left for me.”

“A Fae sent you gifts?”

“I mean, a few books showed up in my room after I left the Court,” Stiles answers, squirming a little in his seat. “But I’d been studying with some of their scholars, and Morgana promised me there wouldn’t be any Fae tricks.”

“And you’re sure none of them was attempting to court you?”

“There were offers, but I turned them all down,” Stiles says. “I never even hooked up with any of them.”

He hears the hint of regret in his voice, and judging by Corbin’s sympathetic smile, he didn’t miss it either. And who could blame him? The Fae possessed an otherworldly beauty and eons of experience, and Stiles has heard enough stories to know what he passed up on.

“Alright. Your being under Morgana’s protection likely precluded any ‘Fae tricks’, as you call them. For now, let’s get you settled in the guest room. My wife will be home soon, and then we’ll all have some dinner and you can tell us everything that’s happened since your Spark ignited.”

He emphasizes the word ‘everything’, like maybe he’s afraid Stiles is going to try to keep things from him. Maybe he should; maybe he should be more wary of trusting a total stranger with so much information about himself. But he has nowhere else to turn; he can’t go home, and if Peter really did call this guy because he’s worried Stiles is going to go supernova, then maybe it’s best if he stays away from the people he cares about for a while.

So instead of arguing he follows Corbin out of the cozy living room and back into the front hall, watching as Corbin uses his own magic to levitate Stiles’ luggage and float it up a narrow set of wooden stairs ahead of them. The room Corbin takes him to is as sparse as the living room was cozy, but not in a depressing way. There’s a well-worn dresser against the far wall and a double bed across from another fireplace. This one isn’t lit, but it gives the room a sense of warmth anyway. Near the door is a wooden desk that looks as old as the rest of the furniture in the house, but it’s right next to an outlet and that’s all Stiles needs to run his laptop.

“It’s not much, but it’s yours for however long you need it,” Corbin says.

“It’s great,” Stiles answers, turning to smile at his host. “Listen, I have no idea how to thank you…”

Corbin holds up a hand and shakes his head. “No thanks necessary. I’m glad you decided to accept my offer, Stiles. The bathroom’s right across the hall. If you need anything I’ll be down in the kitchen, just follow the noise.”

A second later he’s gone, leaving Stiles alone to unpack his things and hope he’s making the right decision.

* * *

When Derek gets to the Stilinski house it’s quiet. The driveway is empty and he can’t hear a single heartbeat, but he climbs up to Stiles’ window anyway, just to be sure. Sure enough, Stiles is gone, but Derek can tell by the scent lingering in the air that he’s been home recently.

He thinks about leaving a note, then decides against it and pulls out his phone instead. When he dials Stiles’ number it goes straight to voicemail, which is definitely strange. Derek’s pretty sure Stiles has never turned off his phone, at least not since werewolves crash-landed in his life.

“Stiles, we need to talk. Call me back,” Derek says into the recording when it kicks on, then he sighs and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

Derek notes absently that his jacket isn't in Stiles' room, and the thought that wherever he is, he's wearing it, makes Derek feel better than it should. But even that comforting thought can't erase the strange stillness of the house, heavy with the sense that he's missing something big. Stiles would figure it out right away, he knows, but then again, if Stiles was here, he wouldn’t be wondering what he’s missing in the first place.

He doesn’t fare much better at Jackson’s place, unless getting a door slammed in his face counts as some kind of victory. Though it means he doesn’t have to talk to Jackson, and he’s not going to complain about that. Instead he stops at the pizza place closest to the loft and waits while they make his order, and if he checks his phone every few seconds while he’s waiting, at least there’s no one there to see.

By the time he gets home he’s frustrated and a little worried. With Stiles not talking to most of the pack there’s really nowhere to look for him; he can’t really follow a scent because Stiles’ scent is all over town, and anyway he’s magic, so if he doesn’t want to be found, Derek’s not going to find him.

“How’d it go?” Cora asks when he sets the pizzas down on the counter.

Derek shakes his head and tosses his keys down next to the boxes. “Stiles wasn’t home. You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

“No,” Cora says, but she pulls out her phone, presumably to send Stiles a text. The chances of him answering Cora are a lot higher than the chances of him calling Derek back, which is a depressing thought, but he can’t deny it. And anyway, it’s good that Stiles still trusts _someone_ in the pack, even if it isn’t Derek.

They each pick up a pizza box and head for the living room, settling on opposite ends of the couch to eat. Stress has always given Derek an even bigger appetite than usual, so he’s not surprised when his stomach growls at the smell of sausage and melted cheese even though he’s still worried about Stiles. Next to him Cora digs in too, and for a few minutes it feels so much like old times that he aches with it.

“Hey,” he says once he’s worked his way through three slices, “remember in Mexico, when we were talking about why I couldn’t consider Stiles as a mate if I wanted to rebuild the pack?”

“Vaguely,” she says, eyeing him like she thinks it’s a trick question.

“You were going to tell me that male Sparks can carry children, weren’t you?”

“Oh! Right, I meant to tell you later and then so much happened that I completely forgot,” she says, eyes wide. “How’d you figure it out?”

“I heard the male Alpha twin talking to Deucalion, when they were holding Stiles somewhere. He was complaining that Deucalion should have let him mate with Stiles for real, that their cubs would be incredibly powerful.”

Cora’s nodding along like this is a perfectly normal conversation and not the two of them discussing magic that should be beyond impossible. 

“Right. I heard Marco talking about it with Gabriela, when they first heard from Peter that a new Spark had been ignited. He was saying that since Eduardo was already mated, he was the next logical choice. That if the Spark was unbonded and he accepted Marco’s offer of courtship, they could have cubs powerful enough to seal his place as Eduardo’s second. 

“I think he was hoping to snap up the Spark before one of Eduardo’s daughters got her claws in him. Of course this was all before I knew they were talking about Stiles. If I’d known who the Spark in question was I could have saved them all a lot of effort.”

“What makes you say that?” Derek asks, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Cora just rolls her eyes at him and picks up another slice of pizza. “Please, big brother. Stiles has been head over heels for you since he was seven. He’s not going to move on to some stranger just because they make him a few dinners and offer to let him stay.”

“He should,” Derek says, though he can’t help the way his face heats up at the thought that Stiles has had feelings for him for that long. A ‘little kid crush’, Stiles had called it the one time he acknowledged it, like it was nothing, just something to grow out of. But he doesn’t seem to have grown out of it, at least not if Cora’s right, and Derek wishes more than anything that he’d just been nice to a little kid that day instead of being a jerk to impress a bunch of friends he couldn't even remember the names of anymore.

He reaches for his phone and checks it again, but there are no texts or missed calls. When he glances up Cora’s watching him, eyebrows raised, but he just huffs a breath and drops his phone back onto the coffee table.

“But you don’t want him to move on.”

“No, of course not,” Derek says before he can stop himself. The conviction in his voice takes them both by surprise, but when Cora grins at him he just rolls his eyes.

“I knew it,” she says, as though he’s confessed his undying love instead of just mentioned that he’d just as soon Stiles stay close. It’s not even news; he’s already made that much clear to Stiles, and he’s told the entire pack that he plans to make sure Stiles has a reason to stick around.

“Don’t get excited. You heard Peter say earlier that it’s dangerous for him while the bond is incomplete. When he took Deucalion’s power he wasn’t himself, Cora. I barely recognized him.”

“Maybe it’s just that he’s finally growing into his full potential,” she says with a shrug.

“Or maybe he’s starting to lose control already. All I know is that there’s really only one way to fix the bond at this point, and I have no idea if that’s what he wants.”

At least according to Peter, the only way to fix the bond is for Derek to take Stiles as his mate. Until today he hasn’t even really considered it, because despite what Peter thinks, Stiles is still underage, and the whole situation feels way too much like he’s manipulating Stiles into something. Just the thought turns his stomach, so no matter how much a part of him might like the idea, he hasn’t even let himself consider it.

Now that he knows how much danger Stiles is in, it’s hard not to have second thoughts. Surely if it was for the good of the entire town...but it’s still taking away Stiles’ choice, and Derek can’t bring himself to do it, even if Stiles himself claims that there was never a choice to begin with.

“Are you kidding me?” Cora asks, exasperated, but before he can try to explain to her why this whole mess bothers him so much, he hears a car pull up outside and the engine cut off.

His first thought is that Stiles decided to forgo calling him back in favor of having it out face-to-face. But he knows the sound of the Jeep’s engine almost as well as he knows the sound of the Camaro at this point, and it’s not Stiles’ heartbeat in the elevator heading up to the top floor. Derek stands up, Cora on his heels, and heads for the loft door just as the elevator door slides open.

He catches a familiar scent the moment before someone knocks, and he frowns as he opens the heavy loft door and takes in a haggard-looking Sheriff.

“Hale,” he says, the scents of worry and guilt and bone-deep exhaustion pouring off him, “tell me you know where my son is.”


	29. Chapter 29

Corbin’s wife, as it turns out, is an actual woodland goddess. It’s clear from the moment he lays eyes on her that she’s not human, at least not entirely. She’s nearly as tall as he is, with long, silvery blonde hair and pointed features. There’s nothing motherly about her, in spite of the fact that she’s probably far older than his mother was, and Stiles finds himself glad for it.

“Well met, Spirit Walker,” she says when he finally wanders into the kitchen, following the sound of soft voices and the smell of roasting vegetables.

“Are you Fae?” Stiles asks before his brain to mouth filter can catch up with him, but as soon as he realizes what he’s said he winces. “Sorry, that was so rude. I mean, I assume it’s rude to go around asking strangers what species they are. It’s just that you’re clearly not human, and that’s how the Fae greeted me pretty much nonstop for the two months I hung out with them.”

“Husband, what manner of creature have you brought me?” she says, eyes twinkling with either laughter or hunger, it’s hard to tell.

Stiles swallows hard and glances over at Corbin only to find him struggling to hide his laughter. “Stiles, this is my wife, Daphnis. She’s a dryad, and she’s not planning to eat you, despite appearances to the contrary.”

“I am not a Fae,” she says, still smiling that bemused smile, “though I do commune with them when the Courts pass through my woods. I have heard whisperings of you, Spirit Walker, both from my Fae brethren and from the trees themselves.”

“The trees?” Stiles repeats, blinking. He knows what other kinds of creatures are out there, of course; he’s read the Argents’ bestiary plenty of times, and the Fae library had even more information than the hunters could ever dream of compiling. But he’s never really stopped to consider how news travels in the supernatural world, so it’s a surprise to know that even the trees are talking about him like he’s something interesting.

“Much has been said of your bravery in removing the scourge that was the so-called Alpha Pack,” Daphnis says. “Though many would have preferred Deucalion to forfeit his life for his crimes, his punishment has a certain poetic justice to it.”

“My, uh, my best friend didn’t want me to kill him,” Stiles answers with a shrug. “Things between us have been pretty rocky for a while now, so I did the next best thing.”

“The trees were right about you,” she says, eyes narrowed as though she’s looking inside him. “You have the heart of a lion.”

Stiles feels himself flush and looks over at Corbin, but he’s got his back to them while he pulls a dish out of the oven. “The trees said that? About me?”

“You are one with the Great Tree, are you not?”

“Do you mean the Nemeton?” Stiles asks, because he can’t think of any other big trees in his life that might qualify, but no one’s ever referred to it as great before, at least not in front of him.

“Technically a Nemeton is any sacred space,” Corbin says, turning back to them. “But in your case that’s what she means, yes. Dinner’s ready,” he adds, waving toward the table. “Why don’t you tell us what’s been happening while we eat.”

Dinner consists of lemon baked cod and a crazy amount of roasted root vegetables. Fish isn’t Stiles’ favorite, but he’s not going to complain about the menu when he’s a guest. Daphnis doesn’t seem to have any fish on her plate, and he makes a note to research whether or not all dryads are vegetarian. It’s the kind of detail he’s never thought to wonder about before, mainly because he’s usually too busy trying to keep them all alive, but if things ever settle down in Beacon Hills and they start building alliances, it would be useful information.

When Stiles catches himself thinking long-term about his place in the pack he scowls, shoving the thoughts away before he can start thinking about everything that’s gone wrong in the past few weeks.

“Peter told you I’m bonded to a werewolf?”

“An Alpha, I believe?” Corbin asks, and Stiles nods.

“Yeah, I mean he wasn’t supposed to be Alpha, but you heard about the fire.”

Stiles tells them about bonding with Derek before either of them knew what it meant, about the rejection and then the years after the fire when he thought he’d never see Derek again. He stumbles a little when he talks about his mother’s passing, but Daphnis is impassive throughout his story and it actually helps him retain control over his emotions.

He tells them about Derek coming back and Peter’s disastrous run as Alpha, about the Argents and how Gerard ignited his Spark by accident. Dinner’s long over by the time he gets through his time with the Fae and then the Alpha Pack’s arrival, ostensibly to court him even though that was never their intention. 

He notices the way Daphnis grips her husband’s hand when Stiles talks about the way Jennifer tried to drain his power, about the blood spilled on the Nemeton and the power boost he got from it. He describes her and Kali’s deaths as clinically as he can, but he’s still bracing himself for them to kick him out by the time he’s done.

What he doesn’t expect are the twin looks of sympathy, or the concern in Corbin’s eyes when he leans forward to meet Stiles’ gaze. “You say the rune left a scar?”

“It’s faint, but yeah. I tried to heal it, but her magic was too powerful, I guess. I know I need to figure out a way to counteract the rune, but I haven’t had time to research it yet.”

Corbin nods and pulls out his phone. “I know someone who can help with that. I have classes to teach and office hours tomorrow afternoon, but I can take you to him this weekend if he’s available.”

“Help how?” Stiles asks, because he knows he doesn’t have a lot choices here, and he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he’d like to know what he’s signing up for before it actually happens. He’d trusted the Alpha twins, after all, and look where that got him.

“He’s a magic practitioner,” Corbin answers as though it’s a totally reasonable question. He pauses long enough to type out a text, then he looks up again. “And he’s also a tattoo artist.”

Stiles gulps at the thought of letting some stranger at him with a needle, but he has to admit that sounds like the best solution if he doesn’t want to walk around waiting for something to possess him. “That makes sense, I guess. I have to warn you, though, I have a hard time with needles.”

Corbin smiles and exchanges a glance with his wife. “You’ve taken out an entire Alpha Pack, Stiles. I think you can survive a simple tattoo.”

Weirdly enough, hearing it that way does make him feel a little better. It’s not the first time someone’s acknowledged that what he did to the Alpha Pack was impressive; Derek seemed to think it was pretty cool, and Peter actually complimented him. But most of the others thought he was something to be wary of now, an unknown in their midst instead of the friend and packmate who’s had their backs since this whole mess started.

“My letter also stipulated a job offer,” Corbin says, suddenly all business. “The semester’s nearly over, so you won’t start right away, but I’m taking a sabbatical from teaching this spring to write a history of Fae folklore in the United States. I have it on good authority that you’re a top notch research assistant. The pay is a pittance, but of course it comes with room and board as well as some college credit. How does that sound?”

“It sounds great,” Stiles says, because he’d just as soon earn his keep while he’s living under their roof, even if it means less time to focus on his magic. “I’ll have to keep up with my high school work online, but it shouldn’t take me that much longer to finish out the year, and then I won't have to worry about it until next fall.”

“And your family? They are aware that you are with us?” Daphnis asks, her cool, detached voice helping to stave off the onslaught of grief that comes along with thinking about his last conversation with his father.

“It’s just me and my dad,” he says, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to meet her gaze. “He’s been looking for somewhere to dump me since he found out about my magic. I told him where I was going, but he doesn’t care that I’m here.”

He can _feel_ their concern like a tangible force in the room, but neither of them says anything, and he could choke on his gratitude over the fact that they’re not making him call his father. Stiles thinks of his phone, turned off and buried somewhere in the bottom of his backpack, and wonders if it even matters. He doesn’t want to turn it back on, because he doesn’t want to know if no one’s called wondering where he is.

Maybe no one’s even noticed yet that he’s gone; his father didn’t follow him home to make sure he was okay, and there’s no reason for any of the rest of the pack to check on him. Derek might want to yell at him about Jackson once he finds out what Stiles did, but other than that he can’t think of a single person who might be looking for him.

He sniffs and scrubs a hand over his eyes, then he looks up. “Some things happened, after the Alphas. I kind of lost control a little, I guess, and cut the connection between one of Derek’s pack and his wolf. I wasn’t even really thinking about what I was doing, I just did it.”

He pauses and sighs, then he looks down at his hands where they’re clasped together on top of the table. “I don’t...if I’m dangerous, I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

A hand closes over his, power thrumming against his own and he looks up to find it’s not Corbin, but Daphnis who’s got him in an iron grip. She’s not magic, per se, but she is technically a goddess, so he’s not surprised at the energy he can feel coursing through her.

“The Great Tree says you paid it an immeasurable debt, Spirit Walker. By shedding your blood freely upon it you have righted a great wrong that was done to it. Your sacrifice cleansed the tree of a terrible darkness and restored the balance to your lands. As a forest guardian, I am honor bound to keep you safe until you can be returned to the earth that claims you.”

It’s not an answer, exactly, but he’ll take it. Stiles nods and conjures up a weak smile as Daphnis pulls her hand away from his. “Thanks. Both of you.”

“As I said before, there’s nothing to thank us for, Stiles,” Corbin says, standing up to fill the kettle from the sink. “The Fae and Peter Hale and even the trees have spoken for you. You’re welcome here as long as you need us.”

He turns away and busies himself making tea, a clear sign that the conversation’s over, and all Stiles can do is nod again and hope he doesn’t do anything to make either of them regret it.

* * *

Derek’s still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the Sheriff even knows where he lives when Cora pushes past him. 

“What happened to Stiles?”

The Sheriff blinks, gaze drifting from the fierce-looking teenager in front of him to Derek and then back again. “Who are you?”

“Sheriff, this is my sister Cora,” Derek says, stepping just slightly in front of her. “The one Stiles helped me find.”

He stares at Cora for a few long moments before he seems to come back to himself and gives her a curt nod. “Right. I’m glad to see you’re safely back with your family, Miss Hale, but right now it’s my family that’s in trouble.”

Derek waves the Sheriff inside and slides the loft door closed again, doing his best not to react to the idea of Stiles in trouble. “I know Stiles was in school today. What makes you think something happened?”

“He left school early and came by the station. We had a...well, it was an argument, I guess. He was talking about this letter he got from some professor he thought could help him with his magic. I said something I didn’t mean and when I finally made it back to the house, he was gone.”

“With all due respect, sir, it hasn’t been that long. Are you sure he isn’t just with a friend?” Derek asks, even though he already knows the answer. The only friends Stiles has are in the pack, and he’s not going to turn to any of them, not after what happened with Jackson.

The Sheriff’s shaking his head before Derek finishes speaking, his mouth turned down in a frustrated scowl. “His Jeep’s at the house. He wouldn’t go anywhere in town without it. And the last time I was in his room there were stacks of old books piled up all over the place, but they’re all gone now. His laptop, his phone, I couldn’t tell for sure, but I think some of his clothes are gone too.”

Derek wants to ask why a parent couldn’t tell when his own kid’s clothes are missing, but then he realizes that the Sheriff probably hasn’t done the laundry since Stiles was a kid, if he even did it then. He knows how much time Stiles spends taking care of other people. How much time he spends _alone_ , and Derek let it continue until it came to this, even though he could have done something about it. He swallows a frustrated sigh and reaches for his phone, hitting speed dial on the first contact that comes up.

“Nephew,” Peter’s voice says by way of greeting when the line connects.

“Peter,” Derek growls, “when you said you’d ‘taken steps’ regarding Stiles, what did you mean?”

“Why do you ask?”

Derek rolls his eyes even though Peter can’t see him. “Because the Sheriff is standing in my entry and he says Stiles got a letter and then left town.”

“I’ll be right there,” Peter answers, then he hangs up before Derek can demand a better explanation. 

He couldn’t tell if Peter sounded worried before he hung up, and it’s a little troubling that the best-case scenario in the current situation is that Peter _is_ responsible for wherever Stiles has gone. At least if this is something Peter orchestrated, Derek can trust that he hasn’t sent Stiles somewhere to be courted on his own. If he answered a courtship request just to get away from his father and the pack, there’s nothing Derek can do to interfere, and the thought of what could happen to him makes Derek want to dig his claws into something.

“I think my uncle might know something,” Derek says, doing his best to stay calm as he turns back to the Sheriff. Cora’s watching him with wide eyes, which tells Derek his heart is beating way too fast, but at least the Sheriff can’t hear it.

“Why would your adult uncle know where my underage son is?” the Sheriff says, the accusation clear in his voice, and Derek can’t even deny it, because Peter himself said just that afternoon that he’d court Stiles if he thought Stiles would go for it, and Derek’s pretty sure he wasn’t joking.

“I know you don’t trust us, Sheriff, but I promise my uncle wouldn’t do anything to harm Stiles, not intentionally. He was worried about Stiles’ power growing too quickly, I think he contacted someone to see if they could help.”

“And that resulted in my son leaving the state?”

Derek shakes his head and listens as the purr of a familiar car engine gets closer to the loft. “I don’t know. Peter’s almost here, he can explain.”

They stand in tense silence, Cora watching the Sheriff as though he might explode at any second, and Derek staring toward the loft door while he listens to Peter parking his car and climbing the stairs. He’s not taking his time, not even bothering to pretend nonchalance, and that worries Derek more than anything.

When the door slides open they all look up in time to watch Peter stride into the room, his expression tense. “Sheriff, this letter Stiles received, did he say who sent it?”

The Sheriff shakes his head, frustration rolling off him, and Derek guesses he’s about ten seconds away from pulling out his gun even though he knows it won’t really hurt any of them. “All he said was there was some guy, some professor or something, in Massachusetts, and he thought he could help.”

At the mention of Massachusetts the tension goes out of Peter’s shoulders and jaw, and Derek feels his own fear begin to ebb as a result. He’s not crazy about the idea of Stiles taking off for the other side of the country alone, but at least Peter seems to know who he's with.

That thought doesn't give the Sheriff any comfort, because as soon as Peter relaxes his eyes narrow. “You know who the letter was from.”

“When Derek explained to you about Stiles and his Spark, he didn’t have all the information to make you understand what’s happening to Stiles now.”

“Did you know that this all happened because that Argent bastard tortured my kid?” the Sheriff growls in a decent imitation of a wolf.

Derek feels himself flush and ducks his head, hand resting on the back of his neck. “Not when it happened. I found out the day before Scott and I came to see you.”

“And you didn’t think I should know that the principal of my son’s school _murdered_ him?”

All three wolves flinch at that, but it’s Peter who recovers first. “Perhaps we should sit. Derek, some coffee? I apologize, Sheriff, but we don’t have anything stronger. Alcohol has no affect on werewolves.”

Derek bristles at the order, but when he catches the Sheriff eyeing him like he hasn’t taken shooting him off the table, he takes the opportunity to retreat. As he measures out coffee grounds into the second-hand pot Isaac picked up at Goodwill he realizes that Peter was just trying to get him out of the Sheriff’s line of sight long enough to shift the subject off his son’s death. He appreciates his uncle’s instinct to shield him, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped blaming himself for letting Stiles get taken by Gerard in the first place.

He listens while Peter gets the Sheriff settled in the living room, though it sounds like he sits grudgingly. “Look, you still haven’t given me a reason not to cuff the both of you and haul you down to the station.”

“I assure you, Sheriff, if Stiles left he did so of his own volition.”

“He’s a minor, Hale. If he left he had help.”

Derek can practically hear Peter’s shrug from his spot in the kitchen. “He may be a minor according to human law, but he’s also an extremely powerful magical being. What Derek didn’t know at the time and therefore could not tell you is that all Sparks must be bound to another supernatural creature in order to contain their magic. Since Stiles’ bond is...compromised at the moment, his magic is growing of its own accord. Eventually it will burn him up from the inside, but not before it does more damage than he could ever live with.

“To that end, I placed a call to one of the only other Sparks in the country. He happens to be a Classics professor at Amherst College. I believe he extended an invitation to Stiles to come learn more about his magic and how to control it until his bond situation is sorted out. Granted, I didn't expect him to leave before the end of the school term, but I suppose he felt that time was of the essence.”

“Back up,” the Sheriff says just as Derek reappears in the living room carrying four cups of coffee. “You’re telling me my son is magically... _bound_ to someone? What does that mean?”

“It’s perfectly innocent, I assure you,” Peter says, and somehow Derek manages to hold back a snort, because the last thing he wants to do is sit here while Peter explains to the Sheriff that if they want to repair the bond and keep Stiles from burning himself out in some kind of magical firestorm, it won’t stay innocent for long.

“Do you remember the party your family attended at our house, when Stiles was still a boy?”

“What does that have to do with…”

“I assure you it’s significant,” Peter interrupts, ignoring the Sheriff’s frustrated huff.

“I remember how upset my wife was afterwards. She didn’t want Stiles anywhere near any of you. I’m starting to think she had a point.”

He doubts the Sheriff notices, but Derek’s known Peter long enough to see the way he bristles at the implication. “Be that as it may, the point is that there were several supernatural creatures there that day, and Stiles’ Spark chose one as its anchor, unbeknownst to either of them. He has been bonded ever since, though he didn’t know it until recently.”

“So you’re telling me my son is magically bonded to one of you,” the Sheriff says, glancing between them, and when his gaze falls on Derek he rolls his eyes and runs a hand over his face. “Of course.”

Derek frowns, because surely he’s not the worst person in the room for Stiles to be bonded to. His Spark could have picked _Peter_ , after all. Before he gets a chance to point that out the Sheriff shakes his head and looks at Peter again.

“Look, none of this changes the fact that my kid is only seventeen and he’s gone off with some stranger to do God knows what. Technically he’s a runaway, since he sure as hell didn’t have my permission to go. So just tell me where he is and I’ll go get him.”

“I’m sorry, Sheriff, I can’t do that,” Peter says, as casually as though he’s talking about the weather.

“I still haven’t ruled out arresting you, Hale,” the Sheriff says, and he looks like he means it. He could probably even come up with charges that would stick, at least for a little while.

“Sheriff, I think we all know that I’ve already told you enough to let you find Stiles if you’re so inclined. But I’ve also told you what’s going to happen if you force him to come home before he’s ready, and trust me, you don’t want to be responsible for that.”

For the first time the Sheriff hesitates, like maybe he’s picturing the kind of destruction Stiles might be able to bring down on his town.

“Weren’t you planning to send him away anyway?” Cora pipes up for the first time since Peter arrived, somehow managing to make it sound like an accusation. “This way he won’t accidentally blow up his aunt, right?”

“Christ,” the Sheriff mutters, mostly to himself, then he stands up. “Just...stay away from my kid. All of you.”

Peter opens his mouth to argue, but when Derek shakes his head he rolls his eyes and shuts it again. There’s no point in antagonizing the Sheriff even more, not while Stiles isn’t even in town for them to stay away from. It’s the first time since the Sheriff turned up at his door that it really sinks in that Stiles is actually gone. He’s all the way across the country, and Derek has no idea who he’s with or when he’s coming back.

He can’t blame the Sheriff for wanting to go out there and bring him home; it’s exactly what Derek wants to do, but he knows as well as Peter does that that would just make everything worse. So instead of beating the name and address of this other Spark out of Peter, he just walks the Sheriff to the door and promises to let him know if he hears from Stiles before the Sheriff disappears back the way he came.


	30. Chapter 30

On Saturday morning they get up far earlier than Stiles approves of and drive a little over two hours east. When they reach their destination Stiles snorts a laugh because it’s such a cliche, but Corbin just smirks at him like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking.

“It’s a tourist trap, mainly,” Corbin says as they drive down the main street past a large village square surrounded by black wrought iron fencing. “But there’s something to be said about hiding in plain sight.”

“So you’re saying witches hang out in Salem because it’s exactly where people expect to find them?”

“Exactly,” Corbin answers with a grin. “Also it’s a lot of fun to scare the tourists on Halloween. So they tell me, anyway.”

Stiles snorts again, but he can see the appeal. It makes him a little sorry that he’s already missed Halloween, because he wouldn’t have minded seeing actual magic in action while no one would suspect anything. 

They turn down a narrow side street and pull up in front of a two-story brick building. The outside is painted gray with black trim, and the sign over the door reads ‘Magic Ink Tattoo’ in red script. Another example of hiding in plain sight, Stiles is pretty sure, and when he follows Corbin inside and feels the foreign magic reach out toward his own, he knows he’s right.

There’s no bell or anything to announce them, but the air inside the shop is thick with magic, so Stiles is sure whoever they’re meeting already knows they’re here. He glances at Corbin anyway, relaxing a little at his wry grin. “Jeremiah likes to make an entrance.”

“Jeremiah?”

“My parents were fond of biblical names,” a new voice says, then a man in his late twenties, probably, with shaggy blond hair and rings in both his ears and one of his eyebrows appears behind the counter. “It was their idea of a little joke. I let the tourists call me Cosmo, helps with the image, you know. My friends, however, call me Jer.”

Stiles manages not to wince at that, but it’s a little too close to ‘Der’ for him to be comfortable using it. He doesn’t want to think about Derek, even though Stiles has been wearing his jacket like a security blanket since he got to Amherst. He hasn’t turned on his phone since he got here, so he has no idea if anyone’s bothered trying to contact him, but he’s going to put off dealing with the mess he left behind for as long as he can.

Jeremiah leans against the counter and grins at Stiles, eyes roaming over his frame while he speaks. “Professor, you’ve brought me an unbonded Spark. And such a pretty one. I had no idea you liked me so much.”

Stiles sees the way Corbin bristles and remembers the little he’s heard about Corbin’s first bond. He can’t blame the guy for getting touchy over people acting like Stiles is some kind of prize, not when Stiles is already pretty sick of it himself. Sure, it’s kind of flattering in a way, but none of these people know him. They don’t know about his bad sleeping habits or his tendency to go on for way too long about things no one else cares about. They don’t know that he’s been taking care of his dad almost his whole life, or how far he’ll go to see his friends safe.

“I’m bonded,” Stiles says, sounding more defensive than he means to, but all it gets him is a knowing smirk, like maybe Jeremiah can tell what a mess his bond is.

“I brought him to you for guidance,” Corbin says, dragging Stiles out of his memories of his friends before he can get upset. “Not so you could try to seduce him.”

“I don’t see how the two are mutually exclusive,” Jeremiah says as he pushes off the counter. “But fine, down to business. You said it was urgent?”

Corbin nods and turns toward Stiles. “You’ll have to show him, I’m afraid.”

It takes Stiles a second to figure out what he’s talking about, but then it dawns on him that Corbin means the scar Julia’s magic left behind. He nods and slips out of Derek’s jacket, setting it carefully on the counter before he takes off his flannel and then finally pulls his t-shirt over his head. There’s a low hiss when the scar is revealed, but it sounds more concerned than predatory.

“Well that’s an invitation for possession if I’ve ever seen one. You piss off an ex or something?”

“No, a Darach,” Stiles answers, pulling his t-shirt back on but not bothering with the rest of his layers. “And to be fair, I don’t think she planned for me to live long enough to get possessed.”

“Then what’s with the open door?”

“She was trying to steal my Spark. I guess she needed a way in.”

Jeremiah nods like that makes perfect sense. “Well, we can close the door and keep it closed, but it’s probably going to take a couple hours. Professor, are you sticking around to watch?”

“I have a few errands to run,” Corbin says. “Stiles, will you be alright here with Jeremiah for a little while?”

Stiles sort of wants to beg him not to leave, which is stupid, because he’s hardly less of a stranger than Jeremiah. They’ve talked some over the past two days that Stiles has been living in his house, but Corbin’s spent a decent amount of time on campus, too, so their conversations have been limited. It hasn’t been nearly enough time for Stiles to trust him, but that doesn’t mean he feels good about being left alone with a witch who’s planning to cause him pain.

Instead he just nods and assures Corbin he’ll be fine. “Though I might pass out, dude, just so you know. Needles aren’t really my thing.”

Jeremiah flashes him a smile that could only be described as predatory, then he gestures Stiles toward the back room. “Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll take good care of him.”

Corbin makes a disbelieving noise and shakes his head. “Just don’t scare him so much he runs back to California before I make it back.”

A moment later he’s gone, Jeremiah’s laughter chasing him out of the shop. When it’s just the two of them Jeremiah winks at him, then pushes Stiles toward a chair at what’s obviously his tattooing station. There are two others, and they both look well-used, but at the moment it’s just the two of them.

“We don’t open until noon on Saturday,” Jeremiah explains when he spots what Stiles is looking at. “Not for mundanes, at least. I mostly use Saturday mornings to make appointments for...special work.”

“So you do a lot of magical tattoos?” Stiles asks as Jeremiah picks up a binder and begins flipping through pages of flash art, except every design is a rune. Clearly this is part of his ‘special work’, and knowing it’s something he does regularly makes Stiles feel a little better.

“It’s a fairly steady business,” Jeremiah answers. He pulls the page he wants out of the binder and crosses to a small copier on the opposite side of the room. “I also do a lot of pentagrams and black cats and all that other touristy bullshit, but hey, it pays the bills.”

Jeremiah smirks at him when he’s done with the copier, crossing back to his station to show Stiles the rune in a few different sizes. It’s one Stiles recognizes from the Fae library, but he’s not entirely sure what it means.

“Now, since you’re not that big on needles, you’ll probably want something on the smaller side,” Jeremiah says, pushing the smaller versions forward. “Do you have any idea where you want to put it? Technically it could go anywhere, but the closer to the original rune the better it’ll work at keeping that door closed.”

“What does it mean?” Stiles asks, picking up a couple versions of the tattoo and imagining how they’d look on his chest.

“Generally, it’s for protection against dark intent,” Jeremiah answers. “It’s a sentry rune, meant to keep out invading energies. But it’s also going to guard you against any more Darachs that try to come after you.”

He gestures for Stiles to take off his shirt again and he complies, shivering a little in the cool air of the studio. Jeremiah holds one of the copies of the rune against his chest, just below his collarbone on his left side. It’s hard for Stiles to see what it’s going to look like, and he wishes he could put it somewhere else, like maybe his back, so he wouldn’t have to see the needles while they’re pressing the magic into his skin. But if he’s going through with this he wants it to be as effective as possible, so he nods when Jeremiah asks if he’s okay with the placement.

“You want it bigger? Smaller?”

“Does the size make a difference in the power?” Stiles asks, then flushes when Jeremiah smirks at him.

“If you know what you’re doing, definitely,” he teases, and when he winks again Stiles blushes an even deeper shade of red. “But when it comes to runic magic, no. This one will work as well as one of the bigger versions. It’s about intent, just like your Spark.”

Stiles nods, willing his blush to die down as Jeremiah pulls the design away from his skin. “Then that one’s good. I just want to make sure this can never happen again.”

He runs his fingers over the faint scar on his chest, frowning down at the reminder of how much learning about his magic has already cost him. A hand comes up to cover his, and for the first time since they met, Jeremiah looks completely genuine.

“Hey, we’re going to get you all fixed up, okay? You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Stiles nods and bites his lip as Jeremiah lets go of his hand and stands up to prepare the design transfer. He doesn’t really have a reason to trust any of these people, but the magic swirling around the shop feels friendly and welcoming, and Stiles finds himself wanting to believe this is the right thing.

* * *

Derek doesn’t call Stiles as soon as the Sheriff leaves. He thinks about it, but Cora and Peter are both still in the loft, and he doesn’t really want an audience for the things he needs to say. Not that he thinks either of them hasn’t figured it out, but he’d prefer they weren’t there to laugh at him after he’s done.

So he waits until the next day, tucks his phone into his pocket before he heads out on his usual run through the preserve. Once he’s far enough in that there are no hiking trails anywhere within hearing distance he pulls his phone out, staring down at it and trying to work up the courage to dial Stiles’ number.

And he’s an Alpha werewolf, for God’s sake; this shouldn’t be so hard. He’s just checking up on a member of his pack, making sure he’s okay and letting him know he has somewhere to come home to, when he’s ready. The thought that Stiles might never be ready makes his palms feel a little sweaty, but there’s nothing he can do about that right now.

Right now all he can do is make sure Stiles knows that he’s still here, that he’s not going anywhere, and that he’ll be ready whenever Stiles decides he wants to work out whatever’s happening between them.

Derek takes a deep breath and dials Stiles’ number, but just like the last time he called, it goes straight to his voicemail. He’s not really surprised Stiles isn’t answering, but he is a little worried that he didn’t take his phone with him at all. It wasn’t in his room yesterday when Derek stopped by, apparently after Stiles had already left town, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

He lets the recording play anyway, and when the beep sounds he takes another breath and starts talking.

“Hey. It’s Derek. I guess you could probably tell that already.” He pauses, hand over his face and taking a second to try to pull himself together before he completely humiliates himself. “Listen, I know you’re where you need to be right now, Peter explained it all to me. I’m glad there’s someone out there who can help you, I really am. I just hope you know that whenever you work out what’s happening with your magic, you still have a place here. You’ll always have a place here, I meant it when I said that. Not just in the territory, but in the pack.”

Derek stops himself before he says something stupid like ‘everybody wants you to come home’, especially when he knows as well as Stiles does that it’s not exactly true right now. That’s just another thing Derek has to fix, and he’s planning to take the time while Stiles is away to do it.

“Right,” he continues, rolling his eyes at himself because talking has never been his strong point, but this is just pathetic. “So, just...take care of yourself, okay? And I know you probably don’t want to talk to any of us right now, but if you could let me know that you’re okay, I’d feel a lot better. Bye, Stiles.”

He hangs up before he can change his mind, then he covers his face with his hands and blows out a frustrated breath. It could have been worse, he guesses. He could have lost his mind and begged Stiles to come home, or threatened to go to Massachusetts and drag him home. He knows exactly how Stiles would react to that threat, so he’s glad he didn’t make it.

Derek realizes belatedly that he forgot to ask about his jacket. It wasn’t in Stiles’ room when Derek went looking for him, and that means he probably took it with him when he left town. On the one hand, Derek really loves that jacket. But on the other hand, there’s a part of him that really likes the thought of Stiles wearing it while he’s so far away, surrounded by strangers where Derek can’t protect him. It’s not like his jacket will provide much protection, even from the cold, but it will remind Stiles who’s waiting for him at home, and that’s something.

He stares at his phone for a few more minutes, willing it to light up with a call or even a text just saying, “I’m okay.” When it remains stubbornly dark he sighs and opens it again, pulling up the pack group text to send out a summons to meet at the Hale house after school for training. 

He’s halfway through composing the text when he’s interrupted by an incoming call, and for a second his heart stutters in his chest. Then he realizes it’s not Stiles’ name flashing across his screen, but ‘Unknown Caller’, and his heart sinks into his stomach. Derek considers ignoring the call and going back to what he was doing, but he remembers Peter warning him to expect a call of his own, so he braces himself and hits ‘accept’ instead.

“Hello?”

“Alpha Hale, this is Satomi Ito. I was a friend of your mother’s.”

Derek’s heart thuds painfully at the mention of his mother, and he draws in a steadying breath. It takes a few moments, but he finally dredges up a memory from his childhood of a regal, severe-looking Japanese Alpha who came to the house to have tea with his mother from time to time. He knows their territory is nearby, but they’ve always kept to themselves and honestly he hasn’t given the Ito Pack a single thought since the fire.

“Alpha Ito, to what do I owe this honor?”

She makes a noise that could either be a laugh or a snarl, it’s hard to tell. “Your uncle called to tell me of your troubles. He thought you could use an experienced hand to guide you in unifying your pack, and as a favor to your mother, I agreed.”

The thought of spending time with someone who knew his mother so well makes Derek’s heart clench, but he knows better than anyone that he can’t afford to turn down whatever help is offered to him. Not when he’s lost a pack member already, and he’s in danger of losing another. Losing his _mate_ , potentially, and he won’t die if Stiles breaks the bond, he doesn’t think, but he’s not sure how he’ll bounce back from a loss like that.

“Thank you, Alpha,” he says, then he blows out a frustrated breath. “Peter’s right, I have no idea what I’m doing. It should be Laura here, not me.”

“And yet it is you,” she answers, a hint of reprimand in her voice. “There is no use in worrying over the past, Alpha. We must focus on the present in order to shape the future.”

“Please, call me Derek,” he says, because it feels weird to be referred to as ‘Alpha’ by a woman who has to be at least a hundred years old by now.

“As you say.” She pauses, and for a second Derek thinks that’s the end of the conversation, but a moment later she’s talking again. “We will meet in the clearing between our territories. In the beginning it will be just the two of us, Alpha to Alpha.”

“In the beginning?” Derek echoes, because it sounds like she’s planning on a lot more than meeting up for tea and handing out advice.

“After some time my pack will meet with yours, but that is a worry for later. We must focus on the present. You must find your peace.”

Derek smiles in spite of himself, because she sounds like a fortune cookie. He pictures Stiles’ face if he could hear her and has to stifle a laugh, because the last thing he wants to do is offend one of the Hale Pack’s closest allies when she’s offering her help. He manages to hold it together until they agree on a time to meet, then he thanks her again and ends the call.

He goes back to his text messages, quickly finishing and sending the one to his betas before he opens a new text and plugs Stiles into the contact line. He stares at the blank space for a long time, going back and forth on whether two phone calls and a text in less than twenty-four hours counts as stalking. Then again, if Stiles doesn’t have his phone then he’s not going to know, at least not for however long it takes him to come home.

 _Peter found someone to help me too,_ he types, _she talks like a fortune cookie. Can’t wait for you to meet her._

He hits send before he can change his mind, then he stands up from the tree stump he’s been sitting on and dusts off his running pants. Somehow he feels a little lighter than when he woke up, as though some burden’s been lifted from his shoulders. It’s not rational, but he lets a little extra spring into his step anyway as he turns and starts running back toward town.


	31. Chapter 31

Despite his certainty that he was going to pass out at some point during the process, Stiles manages to get through his first tattoo without even getting dizzy. Granted, he keeps his eyes shut for a lot of it, but Jeremiah’s good at distracting from the pain.

He starts off with invasive questions about the pack, another detail Corbin must have filled him in on, then he asks Stiles about his bond and how his Spark was ignited. Stiles doesn’t really want to talk about either of those things, but thinking about them distracts him from the pain enough to help him ride it out.

In return, Jeremiah tells him about how his magic works, the way he uses it to create protection tattoos and confidence boosts and the occasional very mild spell to attract love. _Not_ love spells, he’s quick to insist when Stiles raises an eyebrow. Love spells are generally fucked up dark magic, but whenever some mundane gets wind of his particular skill set, inevitably they wander in and ask him to make the current object of their affection fall in love with them.

“The spell to attract love does basically the same thing as the confidence boost,” Jeremiah says. “It just gives them the nerve to go after what they want rather than waiting around for the universe to deliver it to them. So if anything _does_ develop, the feelings are real and there’s no coercion involved. Win/win.”

“You know I’m technically not old enough to be here,” Stiles says, opening his eyes to focus on Jeremiah’s face as he finishes the outline of the rune. “And my dad’s in law enforcement.”

Jeremiah huffs a laugh and pulls the tattoo gun back to admire his handiwork. “Extenuating circumstances. Corbin explained your situation before I agreed to see you. And somehow I doubt even the strictest father would object to you protecting yourself against demonic possession.”

In the end he leaves the tattoo parlor with a shaved chest, a new tattoo, and the sensation of magic that doesn’t belong to him tingling under his skin for the second time. It’s a little disconcerting, considering it was Julia’s magic pushed into his skin the first time, but he’s reasonably confident that Jeremiah doesn’t mean him any harm.

He invites Stiles to join his coven for their Solstice celebration, at any rate, which is unexpected, but kind of nice. Stiles isn’t sure how to feel about the idea of hanging out with a whole coven full of magic users, but Corbin assures him that they’re mostly into nature-based white magic, and Jeremiah’s the only one who uses his powers in his day job.

“Besides,” Corbin says, casting a sideways glance at him before he looks back out at the road, “all of their powers combined wouldn’t hold a candle to yours.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of covens, to combine their powers to perform greater workings?”

“Yes, but you just spent nearly two hours with one of their strongest members. Jeremiah knows very well how foolish it would be to attempt to take anything you haven’t given freely.”

“So you’re saying I should go.”

“I’m saying no harm would come to you if you did,” Corbin answers, stealing another glance at Stiles. “And you did come here to learn more about magic. It might be good to see firsthand how other magic users operate.”

It’s a good point, and he is kind of curious, even though the thought of being around a bunch of strange magic users still makes him a little nervous. But Jeremiah’s okay, even if he reminds Stiles a little bit of Peter, the way he flirts. He’s pretty sure the guy’s harmless, anyway, and if he’s part of this coven they’re probably okay too.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, though he knows he’s probably going to go. It’s obvious Corbin thinks it’s a good idea, and Stiles didn’t come all the way here to hide. He killed Julia and she’s never coming back, so there’s no reason to be afraid of every other magic user he meets.

The rest of the ride passes mostly in silence, which feels kind of weird for Stiles, especially when he’s so used to talking about everything. He still has a million questions about magic and Sparks specifically and how they differ from regular witches and druids, but right now it all feels too overwhelming to put a voice to.

“What do I owe you for this, anyway?” Stiles asks when they’ve both been silent for a while.

“Owe me?”

“For the tattoo,” Stiles says. “I know they’re not cheap, and with magic thrown in it’s probably even more expensive.”

“Oh, that,” Corbin says, shaking his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I perform magic for Jeremiah from time to time. Nothing big, but things that are beyond his particular skillset. He owed me a favor. In fact, if you decide you want to take any more protective measures while you’re here, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to work out a trade with you too.”

Corbin glances over at him and smiles when he sees the blush on Stiles’ cheeks. “I meant you could help him with magic. I infuse his inks with Spark powers to help his own magic set better. He does okay on his own, but the power boost means the spells he casts in ink will last a lifetime instead of having to be touched up every few years.”

“So is he the leader of the coven, then?” Stiles asks. “I thought witches were mostly female.”

“No, there are plenty of male witches around, though lots of human stories call them warlocks or wizards. Jeremiah’s grandmother is the crone, actually, but he’ll likely take over when she’s gone.”

“Is she dying?”

Corbin shakes his head and smiles. “Considering retirement in Palm Beach, I think. She says the New England winters are getting too hard on her bones.”

It all sounds so _normal_ , like there’s nothing weird about the crone of the Salem Coven deciding to spend her retirement in Florida instead of in a cabin in the woods somewhere luring kids in with gingerbread. Then again, he’s been around werewolves long enough to know how well they blend with the mundane world by now, so it probably shouldn’t come as such a surprise.

“I’m going to campus for a couple hours,” Corbin announces when they get back to Amherst. “Do you want to come? There’s not much going on, but I can give you the tour while it’s quiet if you like.” 

“Thanks,” Stiles says, “but I’ve got something to do. I’ve probably put it off too long already.”

And this is why he likes hanging out with Corbin; instead of asking a bunch of nosy questions, he just nods and drops Stiles off at the house, then promises to be back in time for dinner.

The house is quiet when he lets himself in, the only sound the creaking of the stairs as he climbs up to his room. He’s been thinking about the pack since Jeremiah asked him about them, wondering if any of them have called looking for him or if they’ve even realized he’s gone. Maybe they’re glad, because he saw the fear in their eyes after what he did to Jackson, and they’re probably all breathing easier knowing the out of control Spark isn’t around to do the same to them.

The memory of the terrified way they’d looked at him is almost enough to stop him from digging in his bag for his phone, but he forces himself to do it anyway, plugging in the charger before he turns it on and sits on the edge of the bed to wait for it to power up. It takes a few minutes, but eventually his phone starts beeping with a steady stream of message alerts. He’s surprised at how long it takes to finish, but he’s even more surprised to find that not all the messages are from his dad.

Just thinking about his dad makes him sick to his stomach. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get past what his father said, how he’s supposed to forgive it and move on like it never happened. Sure, he’s always been a big fan of ignoring his problems until they go away, but he has a sinking feeling it’s not going to work this time. That doesn’t stop him from ignoring his father’s voicemails, scrolling through his texts instead to see messages from Cora and Erica and Scott. There’s even one from Derek, which surprises him, even though it probably shouldn’t.

His finger hovers over that one for a few seconds before he moves on, opening Cora’s texts first. She starts off with telling him that Jackson got what he deserved, and that she wishes she could have been there to see it. Stiles huffs a soft laugh and keeps scrolling, mostly skimming over the news about the pack and how everyone’s handling his absence. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that his father went to the loft looking for him, either, or that he knows where Stiles is and hasn’t showed up to drag him home yet.

Then again, why would he, especially when he’d been planning to send Stiles away right after the New Year. Stiles scowls at the memory and moves on to Erica’s texts, most of which are complaints about him leaving town without bothering to say goodbye. She seems pretty impressed by what he did to Jackson too, so at least that’s one more person who’s not afraid of him.

Stiles sighs and forces himself to open Scott’s texts next, bracing himself for the accusations and wounded pride he’s sure Scott’s been nursing since he left. That is, if he’s spared any thought for Stiles at all. It’s possible Scott’s just glad he’s gone so he won’t have to feel guilty anymore about moving on.

He’s expecting blame, so he tells himself he’s not disappointed that that’s exactly what he gets in Scott’s first text:

_dude what did you do 2 jax?_

Stiles rolls his eyes, ignoring the lump in his throat, because it’s one thing for the rest of them to side with fucking _Jackson_ , but Scott? He hates that bastard just as much as Stiles ever did, and with good reason. Jackson’s never been anything but a bully, and Stiles doesn’t care how many insecurities it’s covering. He’s an asshole, plain and simple, and he had no business being part of a pack.

The next text is even more pathetic than the first, but it’s the one Stiles was expecting:

_derek says you left town wtf you didnt even tell me_

_srsly dude why is yr phone off_

After that the messages stop for a day or so, then they start up again, but with a much different tone.

_allison says wev been prtty shitty frnds_

Stiles rolls his eyes, because of course it would take Allison saying it to get Scott to realize what a bad friend he’s been since he was bitten. And the thing is, it’s not like he wants an apology, not really. Mostly he just wants his friend back, but he’s not sure they can ever get back to where they were before the supernatural crash-landed in their lives. That thought hurts almost as much as what his dad said to him before he left, so Stiles shoves it roughly aside and focuses on the rest of Scott’s texts.

_im osrry dude i shuld hav talked 2 you more_

_its just isaac knows abuot the wolf stuff u kno?_

_not that you dont fuck sry_

That’s as much as he can take, and he backs out of Scott’s texts and takes a second to rub at the burning in his eyes. He’s not going to cry about it -- he’s _not_ \-- but he feels his heart break a little more at the proof right there in black and white that Scott knew all along he was ditching Stiles, and he went ahead and did it anyway. It’s not even about all the things Stiles did to help him, the hours of research and putting himself in harm’s way. It’s not about the fact that Stiles probably knows more about werewolves than _all_ of them except the Hales themselves.

The fact of the matter is that Scott’s supposed to be his best friend, the one person he can always count on to be there for him, and it turns out Stiles has never really had that. He can’t count on Scott, not the way he did when they were eight and his mom had just died. But Scott didn’t have any other options then, and it turns out that makes all the difference.

Stiles thinks about just turning off his phone again, but then he remembers Derek’s messages and frowns. He’s not sure he wants to hear whatever Derek has to say to him, but he figures he might as well get it over with. 

The text is confusing, something about Peter finding someone to help him and fortune cookies. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but Stiles is glad to hear Derek’s still working on getting better at the whole Alpha thing. At least he assumes that’s what Derek means, and the fact that he wants Stiles to meet this mentor or whatever means he wants Stiles to come home eventually.

He tells himself not to get his hopes up, because one text sure as hell doesn’t solve anything. Instead he goes back to his voicemail, listening to Derek’s first message and rolling his eyes before he deletes it. It’s pretty much exactly what he expected, Derek barking at him that they need to talk without giving him any clue what he wants to talk about. Jackson, probably, but according to Cora Jackson’s not talking to anyone, so Stiles isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do about it.

For a second he considers not bothering with the second voicemail, finger hovering over the delete button. But then he remembers the text and how much friendlier it had been than anything Derek’s ever sent him, so he takes a breath and hits play.

The first thing he notices is how much softer Derek’s voice sounds, like he’s let go of some of that anger that’s always floating around him. The next thing he notices is that Derek sounds almost...nervous, like he’s actually worried about what Stiles thinks of him. It’s crazy, but Stiles doesn’t try to squash the warm feeling that spreads through his chest at the thought.

He’s surprised that Derek didn’t call to yell at him about Jackson, but he’s even more surprised when Derek actually says he’s glad Stiles is getting help. There’s a part of him that half expected Derek to show up and try to drag him home the same way he did with the Fae, and he feels the tension finally melt away from his shoulders when he realizes that’s not going to happen.

It’s nice to hear that at least Derek still considers him pack, too, if only because he’s wanted Derek’s attention for so long that it feels good to finally have it. He feels kind of pathetic for feeling that way, but he figures what Derek doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt Stiles. He saves the voicemail anyway, then he opens his text app again and stares down at Derek’s latest text. The voicemail didn’t say anything about this mentor who talks like a fortune cookie, but Stiles is curious in spite of himself.

 _Mine’s more like Professor X,_ he types, trusting Derek to at least have a passing knowledge of X-Men. _He’s cool. So’s his wife. She’s a dryad._

He presses send before he can change his mind, then he lets his finger hover over the power button as he tries to convince himself to turn the phone off again. Before he does it beeps in his hand, flashing with a text alert from Derek. And it’s stupid to be nervous about talking to Derek, of all people, but his hand trembles a little as he opens his phone again and pulls up his texts.

_I hope that doesn’t mean you’re working on your telepathy. You’re already smarter than the rest of us without reading our minds too._

Stiles smiles in spite of himself at the proof that Derek actually knows who the X-Men are. His heart does an embarrassing little flip, and he’s glad there are no werewolves around to hear it.

_Not yet. I did meet a witch today, though. His day job is doing tattoos._

It takes a minute, but eventually Stiles’ phone beeps again, and he pulls up Derek’s next text.

_Should I be worried about the fact that you needed a tattoo artist, or that you needed a witch?_

_A little of both? Nothing to worry about though. I’ll tell you sometime._

This time the pause is even longer, and Stiles is starting to think Derek’s not going to say anything else when another text comes through.

_You’re okay though?_

Stiles sniffs, then he huffs a laugh, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic display of concern. And he’s still pissed at Derek about the whole courtship thing, but he’s kind of glad that he doesn’t have to deal with any of it himself. So he rubs his sleeve over his face and clears his throat, then he starts typing again.

_Like I said, nothing to worry about, Big Guy._

He can almost _hear_ Derek doubting him all the way across the country, but he doesn’t question Stiles’ answer, and Stiles is more grateful than he really should be.

_If you say so. Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, money or whatever, let me know._

_I can’t take your money, dude,_ Stiles types back automatically, because he may be kind of broke, but he’s not some charity case.

 _You’re Pack. We take care of our own,_ Derek answers, like there’s no room for argument. Maybe there isn’t; in Derek’s eyes Stiles is still part of his pack, no matter what he says, so Derek’s going to consider Stiles his responsibility until Stiles breaks the bond and moves on. It’s what a good Alpha would do, and there’s a part of Stiles that’s proud of him for trying.

There’s another part of him that’s kind of mad it came to this, the two of them on opposite sides of the country again with no idea when or if they’ll see each other. But Stiles isn’t going to dwell on that, because he’s here for a reason, and he’s going to make the most of being around an experienced Spark for as long as he can.

 _I gotta go,_ Stiles says, because he doesn’t want to argue about this, and he has a feeling if he keeps talking to Derek that’s what’s going to happen.

He turns off his phone before Derek can answer, then he plugs it into the charger and heads downstairs to browse Corbin’s library and try not to think about bonds or packs or stupidly handsome Alphas for awhile.

* * *

Derek doesn't realize he's smiling softly to himself until someone kicks him hard in the thigh. He scowls and looks up, rubbing at the spot as the pain slowly fades. "What the hell, Cora?"

"Who were you texting?"

"No one," he answers, even though he's pretty sure she already knows who it was. "None of your business."

Cora makes a humming noise that sounds like anything but agreement, but she lets it go. At least he thinks she does, but when he stands up and heads to the kitchen for some water, she calls after him. "He's okay, though, right?"

Derek thinks back on their brief conversation, smiling to himself at the idea of Stiles hanging out with some magical tattoo artist. It bothers him a little, the thought of Stiles spending time with people Derek doesn't know, people who might want to hurt him or try to steal him away from his pack -- from Derek -- but there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing that doesn't involve showing up in Massachusetts uninvited and making a scene that will just push Stiles even further away.

"Yeah, he's okay," he finally says, turning back to look at her. "Apparently he's living with a dryad and hanging out with witches. And he might have gotten a tattoo already."

Cora's eyes are wide by the time he finishes talking, like maybe she thinks he's making it all up. "A tattoo?"

Derek shrugs and heads for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before he returns to the couch. "He said he'd explain later, but that there was nothing to worry about."

"I thought Peter was sending him to another Spark, not a witch."

"He did. Stiles just met the witch this morning, he said. He's living with the Spark and his wife, who's apparently a dryad."

“Do we know anything about dryads?” Cora asks, frowning as though she’s trying to dredge up anything she might have heard about them.

"I don't know much," Derek admits with a sigh. "They're tree spirits, associated with the Fae but not technically related."

"Are they dangerous?"

That's what Derek's been wondering since Stiles mentioned he was living under the same roof as one. "They probably _can_ be, but Stiles doesn't seem to think this one is. Normally I'd ask him to look into it," he adds with a wry smile.

Then again, he got into this mess by taking Stiles and his willingness to help for granted. He's not going to make that mistake again; he just hopes Stiles gives him a chance to prove it.

"I'll ask Peter," Cora says, pulling out her phone to send their uncle a text. "He's more likely to give me a straight answer."

It's true, no matter how annoying it is. Technically Derek's his Alpha now, but he's also always going to be Peter's nephew, and their uncle's never been that good with authority, even when it was his older sister who was in charge. Granted, he was loyal to Talia, but that didn't mean he always followed her lead without question. He's even less likely to follow Derek blindly, but since Derek doesn't actually know what he's doing he can't really blame Peter for being skeptical.

"Thanks."

Cora shrugs like it's no big deal, then glances down at her phone when it buzzes. "He says, and I quote, 'I know that Stiles is perfectly safe where he is'."

They both roll their eyes this time, because trust Peter to completely ignore the question while getting right at the heart of why they're asking in the first place. Still, it's comforting to know Stiles isn't in danger from the people he's living with. Derek doubts Peter would have sent him if there was any possibility of Stiles being in danger, but he had no way of knowing if Peter even knew there was a dryad living under the same roof as Stiles.

Then again, given what Peter's said about the number of Sparks in the world, his choices seemed pretty limited. They're lucky this professor was willing to take Stiles in, because otherwise Peter would have had to send him all the way to Vietnam for guidance, and the language barrier would have kept Stiles away even longer. When Derek asked why there were no Sparks to teach him in, say, England, Peter just made a face and said he didn't think much of the company the only Spark on the British Isles keeps. He's still traumatized from Peter's stories about the American Spark who's bonded to a vampire, so Derek didn't ask him to elaborate.

His phone beeps and he picks it up from where he left it on the coffee table, heart skipping a beat at the thought of Stiles messaging him again. He feels his ears burn and resolutely refuses to look up at Cora, even though he can hear her stifling a laugh on the other side of the couch. But instead of Stiles the message is from Scott, and Derek frowns down at it for a few seconds before Cora nudges him in the thigh with her toes again.

"What?"

"Lydia told Allison that Jackson's parents sent him off to boarding school in England. He's not coming back."

For a few moments neither of them says anything, then Cora clears her throat and Derek looks up at her. "Well, it's not like he was going to be Pack, right? Not because he's human again," she adds when he opens his mouth to interrupt. "I just mean he's probably going to be even more of an asshole now, and we're never going to get Stiles back if we let the others keep treating him like they were."

Derek nods, because the truth is he had no intention of letting Jackson keep hanging around, werewolf or not. He'd already planned to look for other packs that might be willing to take him, maybe find him an Alpha would could give him whatever it is he needs to work out his issues. Derek already knows he can't be the one to do it, because Jackson doesn't respect him or anyone else in his pack.

"No, he was never going to be Pack again," Derek agrees. "We're going to need to contact the packs around his new school, though, make sure they know about his history in case he goes looking for another Alpha to bite him. And I should probably talk to Lydia."

"You think she's still going to want anything to do with us?"

He shrugs and starts typing a response to Scott. "I don't know. She seemed pretty interested in being involved before Stiles left, but I don't know if that was about staying close to Jackson or if she was just jealous of Stiles over the whole Fae thing. But she and Allison seem to be joined at the hip, so she hears about everything anyway."

"And here I thought there wasn't any space between Allison and Scott for anyone else to get near her."

Derek snorts a laugh and sets his phone back down on the coffee table. "Yeah, well, things are going to have to start changing for everyone. So if Lydia wants to stay in the pack, she's going to have to understand that she's not in charge."

"Good luck with that," Cora says, and Derek laughs, but he has a sinking feeling that regaining control of his pack is going to be just as hard as she's predicting.


	32. Chapter 32

“So you’re telling me you fell out of a tree, and that’s how you met your wife.”

Corbin sighs theatrically at Stiles’ laughter, but he doesn’t look like he really minds being laughed at all that much. “I think it’s more accurate to say she pushed me out of a tree. Though to be fair, it _was_ her tree.”

Stiles laughs even harder at that, clutching his sides and rocking in his seat. They’ve been in Corbin’s library for nearly an hour, but what started out as Spark training has mostly devolved into Corbin telling stories about his own misadventures with magic.

“So do dryads usually go around pushing unsuspecting humans out of trees?” he asks when he finally catches his breath enough to talk again.

“Not generally, no. But I broke one of her branches on the way up, and suffice it to say, she was not happy with me.”

That sets Stiles off giggling again, and it takes another few minutes before he says, “Man, that’s a way better story than ‘he pushed me down and made me cry when I was seven’.”

“That’s what happened with you and your Alpha?”

“Yeah, I mean, he was twelve at the time and a bunch of his friends were laughing at him about the little kid who kept following him around. Neither of us knew anything about Sparks or bonds. Not that he would have reacted any better if he knew I’d bonded to him at the time.”

“And how does he feel about it now?”

Stiles shrugs, thinking back to the way Derek said _I never hated you_ that night at Jungle. He’d sounded so raw, like it was taking everything in him to admit to even that much emotion, and at the time Stiles wanted it to mean something. He’s still not sure it didn’t, but he’s learned not to get his hopes up where Derek’s concerned.

“I don’t know,” he says, doing his best to sound like he doesn’t really care. “I think he’s still kind of figuring out what it all means. Which I can’t really hold against him, considering I’m still trying to figure it out too.”

Corbin nods and gives him a sympathetic smile. “Unfortunately time isn’t really on your side. Your Spark ignited nearly a year ago, and your magic has already begun acting without your say-so. It’s imperative that you repair the existing bond or forge a new one before you lose control completely.”

Which is totally unfair, but Corbin knows that better than anyone, so Stiles doesn’t bother pointing it out. “How do I even break the bond, though? All the books say is that it’s nearly impossible, but none of them describe the process.”

“It’s actually quite a simple process. The difficulty is that you have to absolutely and unequivocally _want_ to break the bond.”

Stiles frowns at that, because of course he’d rather the bond worked the way it was supposed to from the start, that he and Derek had both grown up secure in a pack with no Kate Argent sniffing around looking for a way to take them all out. But given the choice between breaking the bond with Derek and actually burning up in some magical supernova, of course he wants to break the bond. He doesn’t have any other choice but to want that.

He opens his mouth to say so, but before he can get the words out Corbin holds up a hand to stop him.

“You _both_ have to want to break it,” he says, like he actually believes Derek wants to keep him around. Maybe he does, but only because Stiles is supposed to be a powerful magic user or whatever. Not that he feels all that powerful right now, when he doesn’t even get a say in how his future plays out. 

“And even if it was just you who needed to want that,” Corbin continues when Stiles doesn’t answer, “can you honestly say that you’re ready to walk away from your friends, your father, the land you’re bound to, in order to bond with some other supernatural creature?”

Stiles thinks about it, imagines walking away from Beacon Hills forever, and he can honestly say he doesn’t hate the idea. But no matter how mad he is at his father and his friends, he still cares what happens to them. He can’t be there to protect them if he never goes back again, and if he bonds with some other pack or Fae or coven or whatever, who knows if he’ll be able to go back. His blood bond with the Nemeton means something, sure, but it’s not like Derek and his pack have to respect it, especially not if Stiles is the one who chooses to leave.

“It’s my territory as much as Derek’s, though,” he says. “Why should I have to leave?”

“You wouldn’t, necessarily,” Corbin answers. “But are you prepared to fight your friends and former packmates for the right to that land?”

“Not in a perfect world, no,” Stiles grumbles. When he thinks about it, though, he’s not sure he _could_ fight the pack for rights to the territory. He never wanted to make enemies of them; he only ever wanted them to treat him like he belonged. Now everything’s a mess and he has no idea how to fix it.

“Well,” Corbin says, doing his best to sound positive, “it doesn’t have to come to that. When I spoke to Peter about you, he made it clear that the Hale Pack was very invested in keeping you with them.”

“Yeah, because my magic is useful to them,” Stiles says, and he doesn’t mean to sound as bitter as he does, but there it is anyway. 

“I believe his exact words were, ‘We’ve grow quite fond of our Spark and we’d like him back in one piece’.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he has to admit it’s nice to hear, even if it was Peter saying it. He knows Derek wants him to come home too, but until now he wasn’t sure if it was just because Derek was feeling guilty or if he really meant it. 

“Say I did decide to fix the bond with Derek. How would that work?”

“Again, it would require both of you to want the bond,” Corbin says, his expression thoughtful, like maybe he’s trying to decide how serious Stiles is. “Once you’re on the same page there, the easiest way to fix it would be with a mating bond.”

And now he’s right back to laughing, because there’s no way Derek’s going to go for that. “Yeah, right. Derek can barely stand me.”

It’s not exactly true, at least not recently. The last few times he’s talked to Derek they’ve gotten along okay, at any rate, but that doesn’t mean Derek wants to _mate_ with him. Sure, there was a time when Stiles sort of hoped, but that was before he was old enough to realize that people like Derek didn’t date people like Stiles, and they definitely didn’t mate with them. He had no idea who Derek dated while he was living in New York, but Stiles assumed they were all beautiful and a lot more female than Stiles.

Even if Derek is interested in guys, he’s never shown the slightest bit of interest in Stiles. In fact, he’s always seemed to find Stiles pretty annoying, and maybe Derek doesn’t hate him, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re barely even what he’d call friends.

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” Corbin says when Stiles stops laughing. “Peter asked me what it would take to fix the bond, when we spoke. I told him exactly what I told you, and yet your Alpha still seems invested in your welfare.”

“I mean, sure, he still feels responsible or whatever.” Stiles shrugs and does his best to look like he doesn’t care, but he’s not even fooling himself. “But there’s a big difference between wanting me in his pack and wanting me as his mate. I mean, no offense, but if you saw Derek you’d realize that he’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny.”

Corbin purses his lips like he wants to say something about that, but he’s restraining himself. There’s a part of Stiles that wants to know what it is he’s not saying, but before he can ask Corbin’s talking again. 

“Leaving aside your obvious self-esteem issues for now, I think you’ll find that being a Spark makes you a more than desirable mate, particularly with certain species of supernatural creature. Werewolves, for instance, can sire children with male Sparks.”

“You’re saying I can have babies,” Stiles says, voice flat as he waits for Corbin to laugh and tell him he’s kidding. When that doesn’t happen Stiles flails up out of his seat and trips his way over to the bookshelves lining the wall behind him. “What? Why wasn’t that in any of the books the Fae gave me?”

“Because it doesn’t apply to the Fae, and they’re a bit biased toward their own kind,” Corbin answers. “It’s true of most mortal creatures. Basically any species that procreates the way humans do.”

Corbin stands and crosses the room, reaching up to one of the upper shelves and pulling down a book. He flips through it until he finds the page he’s looking for, then he hands it to Stiles. It’s a chapter entitled _Canid-Bonded Sparks: Werewolves, Werecoyotes, and Kitsune_. 

“So you’re telling me if its animal form is dog-shaped, it can knock us up?”

“That’s a rather vulgar way of putting it, but essentially, yes, as long as you chose to mate with a male of the species. If you were to choose a female, of course, it would work the traditional way.”

“Good to know,” Stiles says, voice dripping with sarcasm. He flips through the chapter, skimming a few paragraphs and making a note to go back to the section on the best magical protections for dens. When he gets to the part about Sparks and procreation, he stops skimming and really pays attention.

“It says here that werewolves born of Sparks are, like, superstrong.”

Corbin nods as he settles back into his chair. “Some of them even possess magic, depending on which parent they favor most. There are many reasons a pack would covet a Spark bond. The potential offspring are a part of it.”

Stiles honestly isn’t sure how to feel about that. It explains the overly solicitious attitude of the Garcia Pack, for sure, and why that one beta had spent the entire time Stiles was with them looking at him like he wanted to eat Stiles. 

On the one hand, any time he’s thought about his future, it always involved having a couple kids someday. But he’s never imagined himself as the one to give birth to them, and the few times he let himself wonder what it would be like if Derek wanted him back, he’d never really gotten past the sex to imagine what an actual relationship with Derek would be like.

He sure didn’t imagine babies with dark hair and Stiles’ nose, but he is now. He doesn’t even hate the idea, at least not as much as he probably should. He wonders if Derek knows about this, and if that’s the reason Stiles is suddenly worth his time. Supercharged werewolf babies would definitely help the Hale Pack get back on its feet, but if that’s the only reason Derek wants him, he’s not desperate enough to go along with it.

He’s not, and if he tells himself that enough maybe his stupid heart will finally believe it.

* * *

Maybe his pack wouldn’t believe it, especially considering how easily he loses patience with their bickering, but Derek is pretty good at meditation. He’s never had an issue with quiet, and especially right after the fire he spent days at a time without uttering a word. 

At first Laura would try to tease or annoy or even guilt him out of his funks, but eventually she realized it was a lost cause and left him alone. For a long time he wallowed in guilt over his part in the fire, but eventually he started reading to distract himself from playing out every moment of his relationship with Kate over and over in his head. No matter how many times he tried to pinpoint the moment where he should have realized she was playing him, he couldn’t find it, and eventually he gave up torturing himself and immersed himself in other people’s lives so he wouldn’t have to think about his own.

So he’s used to sitting quietly and thinking about nothing, but that’s not what he’s expecting from his first meeting with Satomi. 

“Meditation,” Derek repeats, eyebrows raised while he waits for her to let him in on the joke, because he’s supposed to be learning how to be a good Alpha, not looking for his Chi or whatever. The voice in his head as he thinks it sounds alarmingly like Stiles, and he has to stifle a snort of laughter.

“You must find your peace,” Satomi says. “The first step toward a healthy pack is balance, and balance begins with the Alpha.”

Derek wants to roll his eyes, but Satomi does have a large, healthy pack, and he remembers how much his mother respected her. So instead he nods and takes a seat in the grass at the center of the clearing, legs folded and arms resting on his thighs.

“We will begin with a guided exercise to help ease your anger.”

“I need my anger,” Derek says, and he doesn’t think it’s a lie, but Satomi fixes him with a look that tells him exactly how wrong he is.

“Anger that reaches inward is as damaging as anger that reaches outward,” she tells him, and Derek’s heart speeds up at the thought that Peter told her about Kate and the fire. She doesn’t look like she’s judging him, though, and when she breathes in and closes her eyes, he does the same.

“Buddha tells us that in order to effect change in ourselves, we must practice mindfulness. Meditation allows us to be mindful of the behaviors we wish to change.”

“You’re a Buddhist?” Derek asks, cracking one eye to look askance at her, because he’s never heard of a Buddhist werewolf. Satomi’s posture and features are relaxed, however, eyes still closed, and Derek swallows a sigh and closes his own again.

“There was a time in my life when I struggled for control of my wolf. Mindfulness helped me to gain that control, and it can help you to do the same.”

Derek doesn’t bother pointing out that he doesn’t have any trouble controlling his wolf. He gets what she’s saying, that becoming more aware of his shortcomings as an Alpha will help him to change them, and that, in turn, will help his pack become more cohesive. He’s not entirely sold on Satomi’s process yet, but at this point he’s pretty willing to try anything. If that means confronting feelings he’s been burying for the past six years, maybe it’s finally time.

“Pay attention to your breaths,” she says, drawing Derek back to the moment. “Feel each breath you take moving through you, warming you and seeking out the places inside you that hold tension. With each exhale, allow your breath to carry your tension away little by little.”

Derek wants to argue that he’s not tense, but as he focuses on his breathing he realizes that he is relaxing incrementally with each exhale. Tension he hasn’t realized he’s been holding ebbs away until he feels loose, more relaxed than he has in a long, long time.

When he’s nearly on the verge of falling asleep Satomi begins speaking again, her voice soothing in the stillness of the clearing. “Picture a place where you feel completely safe. It can be somewhere you know well, or it can be somewhere you imagine, as long as you feel perfectly safe.”

He doesn’t expect a stumbling block like that so soon in the process, but when Derek thinks of all the places he’s been in the past six years, he can’t say he’s ever felt completely safe in any of them. Even when Laura was still alive they spent half their time looking over their shoulders, waiting for the moment hunters or a less than friendly pack would catch up with the eighteen-year-old Alpha and her useless beta.

He’s about to give up in frustration when a memory floats across his consciousness, a begrudging feeling of being safe and sheltered even with the entire Beacon Hills police force out looking for him. He thinks about Stiles grumbling his way through fetching extra bedding and even a warm dinner for Derek, lying to his own father to keep Derek safe and comfortable even as he pretended he didn’t care whether Derek lived or died.

The realization that _Stiles_ is his safe place makes him want to laugh, but there it is all the same. He hasn’t felt that safe since his mother was still alive, since his pack was whole and strong and he thought it would always be that way.

Satomi’s talking again, telling him to picture someone in his safe space with him, someone he can trust to guide him as he lets his anger go, little by little. He’s helpless to imagine anyone but Stiles, knows there’s no one else he’d trust that completely anyway, and he wants to kick himself for not realizing just how important Stiles was before Derek managed to drive him away completely.

There’s no point in adding more anger to the load he’s already carrying, though, so he does as Satomi says and tries to let it go. It’s not as hard as letting go of his anger over Kate, but it’s a near thing, and Derek knows it’s going to be a long, painful process. Letting go of his anger means living in that moment again, and he’s been clinging to it as his anchor for so long that he’s not sure he _can_ let it go.

Still, by the time Satomi decides he’s had enough for one day he feels lighter somehow. He’s still not sure how it’s going to help bring his pack together, but he can feel his anchor slowly shifting from anger to the warm, safe feeling of being sheltered from every storm. He thinks of all the times Stiles has protected him, from hiding him from his father to holding him up in the pool to saving him from Kate. Even now Stiles is holding a message from Derek’s mother, keeping it safe until he’s ready to hear it.

No one’s looked out for him like that in a long time, maybe not ever. The fact that it’s a seventeen-year-old kid who he trusts more than anyone else in his life should be laughable, but mostly Derek just wishes Stiles wasn’t all the way on the other side of the country so Derek could find a way to make things right. If nothing else he owes Stiles a thank you for being there when no one else was, especially when Stiles had better reason than anyone to leave Derek to twist in the wind.

“You will continue this practice until we meet again,” Satomi tells him, and Derek nods, because he’s not going to waste either of their time.

“Thank you, Alpha,” Derek says, “for taking the time to help me. I know you have a large pack to take care of.”

“Your mother was a good friend and a better ally,” Satomi answers. “I hope someday to say the same about her son.”

“I hope so too,” he says, and he means it. Not just because they could use all the allies they can get right now, or even because of his mom. 

The truth is that Derek’s finally starting to believe that maybe he can do this, that he can become a strong enough Alpha to rebuild the Hale Pack to its former reputation someday. He’s starting to think they can make something they’ll all be proud of, and that’s something he’s willing to fight for.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been to the five-college circuit in years, so I don't know if your student ID at one school will get you into the library of the others anymore. If not, let's call it creative license. Not that it's really important to the story.

By the end of his first month in Amherst Stiles has two more tattoos and a temporary student ID that gets him into the university library’s Special Collections. 

One of the tattoos is a rune to help him control his magic and the other, more complex design is a runic compass, meant to help keep him on the correct path. At the last minute he asks Jeremiah to include the phases of the moon between each compass point. He gets a raised eyebrow, but no comment, and when he sees the finished design he knows he made the right choice.

Getting his hands on the student ID is a little trickier than trading some of his own magic for a couple tattoos. It requires paperwork from both him and Corbin as well as two trips to campus to explain that while he’s not actually enrolled or taking any classes, his position as research assistant means he’ll need access to the library’s collection. It takes nearly two weeks to get through all the red tape, but finally one of the student workers in the Registration office hands over a laminated ID featuring a dorky picture of him and the official Amherst College seal.

His new ID lets him access the libraries at the four other colleges in the area, too, and he takes full advantage of the folklore collections on each campus. Some of the books detail stuff he’s never heard of before, creatures that have never been seen in the Americas and probably unheard of to the Hales and maybe even the American branch of the Argent family. He takes as many notes as he can, thinking vaguely of creating a bestiary of his own one day, one he doesn’t have to ‘borrow’ from an unsuspecting owner.

When Corbin actually starts working on his history of the Fae Stiles knows the scope of his research will be a lot more limited, so he’s planning to use his time before the fall semester officially ends to do as much general research as possible. If it keeps him out of the house and away from the phone he’s still more or less avoiding, that’s just a coincidence.

After his first week away from home he forced himself to listen to his father’s messages. He sounded tired and a little sad, but the thing that stopped Stiles from calling him back and apologizing for worrying him was the fact that his father never said he was sorry for what he’d said. He didn’t even bring it up, just talked in vague circles about how Stiles didn’t have to leave and how they could work it out if he just comes home.

Then he said that Peter told him Stiles was in Massachusetts and that he was safe, and if Stiles felt like that was where he needed to be, his dad would respect his decision. It sounded an awful lot like his dad giving him an excuse to stay away, like maybe he was glad that Stiles left and saved him the trouble of finding somewhere to send him.

Stiles has no idea how to respond to that, how to tell his father that all he really wants to hear is that he didn’t mean it. But he did, and that’s the part Stiles can’t get past. So he doesn’t call back and pretend that everything’s okay, not when it’s about as far from okay as it can get. 

He sends a text on Thanksgiving, because even though it’s kind of a relief that his hosts don’t celebrate holidays, he knows his father’s probably worrying about how he’s doing so far away from home for the first time. So he sends a text to say that he’s okay and he’ll be gone at least through the end of the school year, then he turns off his phone again.

It can’t last, though, mainly because he’s spending more time on campus these days, which means Corbin needs a way to get in touch with him. It’s a little surprising to find a missed call alert from Derek when he checks his phone as he’s leaving the library, tugging Derek’s jacket close against the cold even though it doesn’t do all that much to protect him from the biting winter wind.

Stiles considers ignoring it for a minute, but he hasn’t talked to Derek since those few texts right after he got his first tattoo, so he dials Derek’s number as he walks across campus to meet Corbin at his office.

“Stiles?” Derek says when he picks up, like Derek’s surprised to hear from him, and Stiles blushes at the thought that maybe Derek butt dialed him or something.

“Yeah, you, uh...you called me earlier. Did you mean to, or…?”

“I did,” Derek says. “I just wasn’t sure you’d call me back.”

He doesn’t argue, because he figures Derek’s got a valid point. Stiles hasn’t exactly gone out of his way to stay in touch with anyone from the pack, even the ones he’s not really mad at. “Well, I did. So what’s going on? Is my dad okay?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Derek assures him, and Stiles realizes abruptly how tense he’s been since Derek answered his phone. He shakes it off as well as he can and focuses when he realizes Derek’s still talking. “First, I want to apologize. Erica told me you were upset that I refused those courtship offers without asking you first. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Uh…” Stiles says, and he knows he sounds like a moron, but another Derek Hale apology is the last thing he’d been expecting. There’s a soft sound on the other end of the line, and if Stiles didn’t know better he’d swear Derek’s actually laughing. “I mean, it’s fine. Yeah, I was kind of pissed at the time, but I’m over it.”

“Still, I should have talked to you. Even though the last thing I want is for you to leave for good.”

Stiles opens his mouth and then closes it a couple times while he tries to come up with an answer for that. He knows they need to talk about the bond, but it’s the last thing he wants to do. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up and then have to listen to Derek let him down gently, so he swallows the question that’s on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry too. About Jackson, I mean. Not that I’m sorry for what I did, because he was a shitty werewolf and a bully and he deserved it. But I should have given you a heads up at least.”

“No,” Derek says, and Stiles pictures him frowning down at the ground like the whole world is his responsibility. “I never should have bitten him, you were right. He was terrible for the pack.”

“Was?” Stiles asks, because he’s not a werewolf anymore, but that didn’t guarantee Derek would cut him loose. 

“His parents sent him to England,” Derek tells him. “Boarding school or something. Peter contacted all the packs in the area to let them know about the Kanima situation, just in case he goes looking to be bitten again.”

“Would that even work?” Stiles asks, because the truth is he’s not a hundred percent sure what he did to Jackson.

There’s another soft sound over the line, a little amused huff that sends warmth coiling in the base of Stiles’ stomach, and he’s glad Derek can’t sniff out his emotions over the phone. “We’re not sure, but Peter thought it was better not to take any chances.”

“I’m with the zombie wolf on this one,” Stiles says.

“Yeah, I thought you might be.” Derek pauses, and for a minute Stiles thinks that’s the end of the conversation. He’s a little surprised at how much the idea bothers him, but before he can think of some excuse to keep Derek on the phone, he’s talking again. “That’s not why I called, though. About the courtship offers, we’ve gotten a few more. Do you want me to forward them to you?”

Stiles knows he should say yes. He should let Derek off the hook, distance himself from the pack as much as possible. But when he opens his mouth, what comes out is, “Nah, I don’t need to see them. Unless there’s some reason you think I should?”

And okay, maybe he’s fishing a little, but he can’t help himself. He just wants to know how Derek feels about them one way or the other, so he can stop wondering and get on with his life. 

“No,” Derek says, almost before Stiles finishes asking the question. “No, I mean, technically it’s my responsibility as your Alpha, so I don’t mind taking care of it.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Stiles says instead of correcting Derek about his status in the pack. He reaches the building where Corbin's office is and ducks inside, shivering at the abrupt change in temperature and shaking a few flakes of snow out of his hair. “So how’s it going with the fortune cookie?”

This time Derek definitely laughs, and Stiles does his best to ignore the way his heart skips. “It’s a work in progress, but I think it’s helping.”

“That’s good.” Stiles leans against the wall outside Corbin’s closed office door to wait for him to finish with whichever student he’s helping.

“How about you? Do you think it’s helping, being there?”

Stiles can’t tell whether Derek wants him to say yes or not. He knows Derek wants him to come back to Beacon Hills eventually, but he has no idea how to ask if Derek’s ready for him to be back there now. In the end it doesn’t matter, because even if Derek’s ready to figure out the bond once and for all, Stiles isn’t ready to go back.

“Yeah, it is,” he finally answers. “I’m meeting other magic users and learning a lot about what it means to be a Spark.”

“And your control? Peter said you were struggling a little,” Derek says, and Stiles tells himself he’s imagining the hint of guilt in Derek’s voice.

“It’s been okay. I got another tattoo to help.”

There’s another pause, then Derek clears his throat. “Don’t you have to be eighteen to do that?”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Stiles says. The door next to him opens and he looks up in time to watch Corbin and a girl around his age walk into the hallway. “Listen, Derek, I have to go. My ride’s here.”

“Okay,” Derek says, though he doesn’t sound that eager to hang up. “Hey, do you think you could text Cora? Maybe Erica too. They’re both worried about you.”

Stiles winces when he remembers all the texts he’s been ignoring. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks,” Derek says. There’s another pause, then, “Keep in touch, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles says, his heart tripping over itself. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

He hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket, then he looks up to find Corbin and the girl still standing there, both of them smiling at him. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, hoping they’ll chalk up his blush to the walk from the library. 

“Stiles,” Corbin says, smiling in a way that tells Stiles he’s not fooling anybody. “I’d like you to meet a student of mine. This is Kira Yukimura. Kira, this is the young man I’ve been telling you about.”

* * *

For a few moments after he hangs up Derek just stares down at his phone. He’s glad he managed not to beg Stiles to come home, but he’s pretty sure it was implied a couple times. It was hard to hold back from admitting that’s exactly what he wants, but he’s spent enough time with Satomi by now to remember her lessons. Namely, that he can only lose what he clings to, and he didn’t really get it when she said it to him, but after talking to Stiles, he thinks he understands. 

He’s pretty sure it means that he has to let Stiles choose his path for himself, even if it doesn’t lead him home to Derek and the pack. He can make sure Stiles knows he’s wanted, but trying to guilt him into coming home will only cause more resentment. That’s the last thing Derek wants, especially after all the ways his pack has already hurt Stiles, so all Derek can do now is be patient.

Still, it was nice to hear Stiles’ voice, to reassure himself that he’s healthy and more or less happy where he is. After they texted that first time Derek sort of hoped Stiles would stay in touch, but when weeks passed without a word it got harder and harder for him to think up a reason to make contact again. The arrival of more courtship offers was almost a welcome excuse, even if Derek was a little afraid that Stiles might demand to deal with them himself.

Knowing he’s not still angry with Derek is a relief, and knowing he’s not interested in being courted again leaves Derek’s hands a little shaky. And the thing is, it’s not just his bond with Stiles that’s making Derek want to beg for him to come home. It’s not even the knowledge that a member of Derek’s pack is far from his territory where he can’t protect them. The fact is that in the month since he’s been gone, Derek’s come to terms with exactly how much Stiles did to help him keep the pack together, and how much harder it is now that he’s gone.

He’d always thought his betas were at least capable of communicating with each other, but it turns out Stiles is the one who always made sure to remind them of pack meetings and that they all had rides. He smoothed over things with the Sheriff’s department during the couple days Boyd and Erica were reported as runaways, before they both came back with their tails between their legs and half a story about Gerard Argent. He even managed somehow to get Social Services off Isaac’s back, and Derek’s pretty sure it involved very illegal theft and destruction of official paperwork.

He’s the one who sent Scott texts that probably seemed like nagging, but turned out to be the only way he remembered to stay on top of homework assignments and studying for tests. In the month that Stiles has been gone Scott’s grades are already slipping, and Coach is threatening to bench him if he doesn’t get his act together. Not even Allison’s been able to keep him on track the way Stiles did, not that anyone’s really surprised about that.

Then there’s the research Stiles did for them. Derek never appreciated it the way he should have, but now that Stiles is gone, he knows exactly what he threw away. It always made him feel like a terrible Alpha when Stiles handed him a stack of neatly organized information on whatever monster they happened to be up against, like he couldn’t handle keeping his own territory safe even though he grew up in this world, and Stiles was just a human hanger-on.

Remembering that he’d once thought of Stiles that way makes Derek flush with shame. Peter had been right when he called Derek arrogant and self-involved, when he called the rest of his betas a pack of bullies. He was right, and it’s Derek’s fault, which means he’s the one who’s going to have to turn things around.

Nobody’s been able to fill in for Stiles on the research front, not even Lydia. It took a week or so after Jackson left for her to turn up at the loft, trailing behind Allison and Scott and doing her best to pretend she was there under duress. Derek could see how lost she was after Jackson abandoned her, though, so he tried to be gentle when he told her she was going to have to prove her loyalty before he’d accept her as a full member of the pack.

He wasn’t surprised when she narrowed her eyes at him and claimed she hadn’t even decided if she wanted any part of ‘your little pack’, as though she was the one giving them a trial run even though she’d been right there by Jackson’s side since Stiles filled her in on the werewolf situation. He could smell the humiliation radiating from her, so he’d let it go and even let her try to pick up where Stiles left off on research.

Only no one knew where Stiles found half the information he did, not even Peter. He just had a knack for tracking down answers, no matter how obscure, and after watching Lydia drive herself crazy trying to prove she was smarter than him, Derek started to wonder if it had something to do with his Spark.

He’s staring at his phone and trying to convince himself not to text Stiles and ask when the loft door opens, and Derek looks up in time to watch Lydia walk in followed by Allison, then Scott and Isaac. She’s a little wild-eyed and more disheveled than Derek’s ever seen her, purple bruises under her eyes like maybe she hasn’t slept for awhile.

“I give up,” she says, and it sounds like it’s taking a lot out of her to admit defeat. “I don’t know what laws he’s breaking to find his information, but they have to be serious, because even Danny couldn’t help.”

“Danny?” Derek asks, eyes narrowing at the thought of Danny anywhere near his pack, especially after what happened the last time Derek saw him.

“Relax, I didn’t tell him anything,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes as though Derek’s the one being unreasonable. “I simply requested that he follow Stiles’ online history and send me a list of his most-viewed sites. I have to say, for someone who’s been in love with me for years, he certainly watches a lot of gay porn.”

She makes a face that Derek thinks is probably meant to be disgusted, but mostly she looks put out. Before he comes up with a reply that’s even remotely appropriate there’s a harsh laugh from the loft door, and Derek glances over in time to watch Erica and Boyd walk in. 

“Please, he was never in love with you,” Erica says. She smirks when Lydia squares her shoulders, like maybe she’s going to argue the point, but she doesn’t get the chance. “He told me himself that he only pretended to like you because he knew you’d never like him back, so he didn’t run the risk of hurting anyone’s feelings while he tried to distract himself from that whole rejected bond thing.”

Her gaze cuts over to Derek when she says it, just barely making eye contact before she’s smirking meanly in Lydia’s direction again. And she looks just as spiteful as ever, but he can smell the embarrassment she tries to cover up, and he wonders if maybe Stiles wasn’t as successful at not hurting anyone’s feelings as he’d hoped.

Not that Derek can blame her; Erica was practically invisible before Derek bit her, and Stiles is so _alive_ that it makes sense she’d want to be in his orbit. He hates himself a little for the relief he feels that Stiles never noticed her, that he used Lydia to fend off the potential of any real relationships after Derek rejected him. Derek knows he doesn’t have the right, especially considering his own history, but there’s not much he can do about how territorial his wolf gets when it comes to Stiles.

Lydia opens her mouth to say something no doubt scathing about Erica’s fashion choices or maybe Stiles’ taste, but Derek cuts her off before she can. “Enough. Stiles’ personal life and his internet history are none of our business. Tell your friend to keep his nose to himself.”

Lydia’s eyes narrow at him this time, but the effect is sort of ruined by the fact that her mascara’s smudged and she looks like she might fall asleep on her feet at any moment.

“Thank you for trying, Lydia,” Derek adds, doing his best to be nice even though he feels a mean sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t able to prove herself more valuable than Stiles.

She huffs a dismissive noise and flops down onto a corner of the couch. “I just don’t understand where he’s getting all his information. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, but he’s distracted by the sight of Peter and Cora finally arriving for the meeting. They’d gone out for a long lunch, ostensibly to catch up, but Derek has a feeling they spent most of it talking about Stiles. Or maybe him; either way, it gave him enough privacy to call Stiles and talk to him for a few minutes, so Derek doesn’t care what Peter and Cora spent their afternoon gossiping about.

“I imagine most of our dear Spark’s information came from books,” Peter says with a nod in Derek’s direction. “The internet is a dangerous place to share the secrets of the supernatural world, though there are a few message boards where you can get straight answers, once you’ve established your trustworthiness.”

He emphasises the last part when Lydia opens her mouth to interrupt, most likely to ask what sites exactly he’s talking about. She frowns at the unspoken reprimand, but doesn’t push the issue, so Derek calls it a victory.

“Where’s he getting all these books, then?” Lydia asks. “And why can’t we just go get them? Surely the Sheriff would let Scott take whatever he needs from Stiles’ room.”

Peter’s smile is sharp, and Derek knows he’s holding back a threat at the idea of invading Stiles’ space that way. “There are reputable book dealers online with a wealth of resources. I passed along a few of my own contacts to Stiles. Then there were the gifts from the Fae, and of course I’m sure he liberated a title or two from our dear emissary as needed. I think it’s safe to assume he took the more useful titles with him when he left, though. No need to bother the Sheriff.”

“So that’s it?” Lydia says, frustration clear in her voice. “We’re dead in the water until he comes back?”

“Well, the Argents have quite an extensive library,” Peter says with a nod in Allison’s direction. “And of course I’m not without my uses.”

When he smiles this time Lydia shudders, but she schools her features into a dark scowl and looks away from him. “The Argents’ library it is, then.”

Allison looks up at the sound of her name, a little wide-eyed as she blinks back at Lydia. “I don’t know if my dad…”

“I thought you were in charge now,” Lydia says, challenge clear in her voice, and Allison flushes and looks down at the hand that Scott’s holding.

“I am, technically. But my dad thinks I still need training before I can take over completely.” She shrugs and looks up again, cheeks stained red but a determined look in her eyes. “I agreed with him. After everything that happened with Gerard, I need to make sure I’m doing things for the right reasons.”

It’s the first time Derek’s heard her take real responsibility for her own actions or that of her family. He still doesn’t trust her, but he didn’t hear a lie in her words, and he wants to believe that she and her father want to make things right. He wants to believe in the tentative truce they’ve built, wants to know that his pack is safe even with hunters in town. 

The truce with the Argents is a step toward creating a stable pack, anyway, so Derek nods when Allison meets his eye. She offers him a tentative smile, less fierce huntress all of a sudden and more nervous teenage girl, but it makes him feel better somehow to know that she’s still trying to figure things out too.They’re all trying to figure things out, but as long as they do it together, maybe they’ll be okay.

“Talk to your father,” Derek tells her. “In the meantime we still have a pixie problem. Peter, why don’t you tell us what you know and we’ll go from there.”


	34. Chapter 34

The truth is that Stiles isn't sure what to think of Kira. He’s never met a kitsune before, but he could tell the second Corbin introduced them the day before that she was supernatural. As soon as he reached out with his magic he could see the shape of a fox surrounding her like an aura, and he saw the flash of her true eyes.

He doesn’t have anything against her as a person; she’s friendly and she has a great smile, and she’s exactly the right kind of dorky. In fact, if they’d met back in Beacon Hills he’d probably work hard to bring her into his group of friends. It wouldn’t even be that hard, since she’s supernatural and all. Then again, considering the way the rest of his friends treat him, maybe she’d have decided he wasn’t worth her time pretty quick too. That thought isn’t fair to Kira, though, so Stiles pushes it roughly away and focuses on what she’s saying. 

“I don’t know that much about being a kitsune yet,” she says with an apologetic smile. “I think maybe that’s why Professor Theroux decided to introduce us. You know, since you’re new to the whole Spark thing too.”

They’re sitting in a coffee shop on the edge of campus, and even though he knows better, it feels weirdly like a blind date to Stiles. He’s pretty sure Kira’s not expecting him to impress her or anything; after all, she’s a college student, and technically Stiles is still in high school. But he wants her to like him, if only because he hasn’t made any other friends in Amherst yet. 

“Aren’t kitsunes born with their powers?”

“We have to grow into our tails,” she says, blushing a little when Stiles grins. “My parents kept it from me as long as they could.”

“Why?”

“They claimed it was to protect me,” Kira says, but she rolls her eyes, which tells Stiles what she thinks of being coddled. “That’s why I decided to go to college here instead of back home. My family’s in New York, but I couldn’t stay there after I found out how long they’d been lying to me.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says. “Not that my dad knew I was a Spark, but he didn’t take it very well when he found out.”

Kira nods, then her expression turns serious. “Professor Thoreaux was saying you’re bonded to a werewolf? Does your dad know about that?”

The question brings him up short, because the truth is he’s never really talked to his dad about his Spark or how it works. As far as he knows his father has no idea he’s been bonded to Derek for the past decade, but he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be thrilled with the news. 

“He knows about werewolves, but not about the bond. He was planning to send me to live with my aunt to get me away from the pack before Corbin invited me here.”

For a second her expression turns sympathetic, but before he has a chance to bristle at the idea of being pitied she’s smiling brightly again. “Well, thank goodness there are no parents to hassle us here, right?”

“Right,” Stiles echoes, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s been avoiding thinking about his dad as much as possible, but he knows that eventually he’s going to have to face the mess that is his relationship with his father. 

She must sense the change in his mood, because she leans forward and gives him another smile. “So what’s it like, being part of a werewolf pack? I’ve always wondered.”

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to answer that,” he says with a shrug. “I mean, the pack I hung around with was kind of a mess. The Alpha lost most of his family and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get better, though.”

When Kira smiles this time it’s almost understanding, like she’s hearing more behind his words than he really meant her to. “You must miss them a lot.”

He shrugs, but the truth is that he does miss some of them. As much as it hurts to know Scott left him behind on purpose, Stiles can’t help missing what they used to have. He misses the security of knowing that Scott would always have his back no matter what, even if it had never really been true. He misses Cora and Erica a little, too, or at least he misses what they could have had if he’d stuck around Beacon Hills. He even misses Derek, but he tries not to think about the reasons for that any more than he has to.

“Some of them are cool,” he says. “I think you and my friend Erica would get along pretty well. She comes off kind of badass now that she’s a wolf, but she’s still the same geek underneath all the leather.”

“Well, maybe I’ll get a chance to meet them someday,” Kira says, like she’s actually looking forward to it. “So did you really defeat the Alpha Pack?”

“Corbin told you about that too?”

Kira shakes her head and leans a little closer so she can drop her voice to a whisper. “I heard about it from my mom, actually. You’re kind of famous in the supernatural world, didn’t you know?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard it, but Stiles has been trying not to think about it any more than he has to. He doesn’t understand how word about the Alpha Pack spread so fast, or why anyone outside the werewolf community cares. But according to Corbin the Alpha Pack terrorized more than just other werewolves, so apparently the whole supernatural community has taken a deep breath now that they’ve been defeated.

“You’re not trying to court me, are you?” he asks, suddenly suspicious, because she’s smiling at him like he’s something amazing. And he likes her, but he’s definitely not interested in another courtship. “I mean, you know I’m bonded.”

Kira’s eyes go wide as soon as he says it, and when she blushes he feels almost bad for bringing it up. “Oh my God, no. No offense, you’re really nice and I like hanging out with you, but even if I wanted to court you my parents would never go for it.”

“Good. That’s good,” Stiles says, then he realizes how he must sound and he blushes to match her. “Sorry, I mean, you’re really cool too, it’s just that the whole courtship thing is way too weird for me.”

“I know! I mean, I don’t actually know, but it’s a totally weird tradition,” Kira says, her embarrassment apparently forgotten already. “I thought my parents were old-fashioned, but when I heard that some supernaturals still do things like courting and blood feuds, I realized how easy I got off. I mean, all my parents did was home school me and keep me from learning how to use my powers.”

Before Stiles can answer his phone buzzes with a new text alert, vibrating on the table top and startling both of them. 

“Sorry,” he says, picking up his phone and frowning when he sees Cora’s name. 

“Everything okay?” Kira asks, eyebrows drawn together like she’s actually worried about him. 

“Yeah, it’s my Alpha’s sister,” Stiles says, and his stomach doesn’t flip when he says _my Alpha_ , like he has some kind of claim on Derek. It’s just easier to let Kira think he’s still officially part of the pack than to explain why he left. “She wants to know about pixies.”

Stiles frowns down at his phone for a few seconds, then he texts back. _pixies are easy just give them some clothes and ask them to move along_

It takes less than a minute for him to get an answer, but instead of explaining why she wants to know about pixies or even thanking him for the information, all it says is, _clothes???_

He rolls his eyes and starts composing a text about checking the nearest toy store for doll clothes, then he thinks better of it and types, _nm i’ll just send some_

Once he hits send he _believes_ that a selection of pixie-sized clothes that are magically fortified to last longer than they should will appear wherever Cora is, then he sends another text. _did you get them?_

 _YES_ , Cora types, then, _thank you thank you gtg derek went out there to talk to them_

Stiles frowns again, but he shoves his phone in his pocket and looks back up at Kira. “Sorry about that. They don’t really ask for my help, but Cora and I have been friends for a long time.”

Kira nods like that makes perfect sense, then she leans in again and flashes a brilliant smile. “So...pixies?”

* * *

Derek’s still shaking his head to try to clear the ringing caused by the high-pitched, excited chattering of the pixies when he makes his way out of the preserve to the parking lot where he left the Camaro. He’d stayed behind to make sure the pixies kept their word and left the territory, but he didn’t need to worry. They’d been so thrilled with the clothes, infused with Spark magic as they were, that they’d thanked him over and over in increasingly grating tones until he couldn’t take it anymore. But they’d also promised never to turn up in Derek’s territory to torment hikers until they were hopelessly lost in the woods again, so it’s probably worth a little temporary hearing loss.

He knows that they have Stiles to thank once again, because until Cora thought to text him Derek had almost been desperate enough to let Lydia try to contact the Fae. She’d insisted that the Fae and the pixies had some kind of long-standing rivalry, and all they needed to do was let the Fae know that the pixies were around and they’d take care of it.

Privately Derek’s still half-convinced Lydia was just looking for an excuse to have an audience with Queen Morgana. He knows she’s still mad that the queen favored Stiles with an entire week of mortal time, while Lydia didn’t even rate a glance. But the last thing Derek wants to do is make an enemy of any Fae, let alone a royal Fae, especially one who’s close enough to Stiles to convince him he doesn’t need to tie himself to a werewolf pack after all.

He’s trying not to bother Stiles with the things that are going on in Beacon Hills, but none of them would have ever worked out that they just needed to give the pixies clothes as a peace offering. Even Peter had been astounded that it worked, and he knew more about pixies than the rest of them put together. Then again, Peter’s knowledge mostly had to do with the kinds of mischief pixies caused, and they already knew that before they started trying to figure out how to get rid of them.

Derek’s hoping the fact that Stiles magicked them some clothes instead of just telling them to buy some clothes and washing his hands of the whole situation is a good sign, even if he’s not naive enough to think Stiles will come rushing home just because of a few pixies. He’s so busy wondering what it would take to get Stiles to come home that he almost misses the sound of a car approaching, but when he looks up there’s a police cruiser pulling into the parking lot to stop next to his car.

For a second Derek worries that some hiker heard the pixies and called in a noise complaint, but then the car door opens and the Sheriff steps out. It was him who called Derek after the third hiker was reported missing, and Derek assumes he’s just there to make sure everything’s been handled. 

“Hale,” the Sheriff says in the same gruff voice he’s been using since he found out what Derek is. “Everything under control?”

“Yes, sir,” Derek says. He reaches up to run a self-conscious hand over his hair, though the pixies never got close enough to cover him in pixie dust. “There won’t be any more lost hikers, at least not because of pixies.”

The Sheriff levels him with a suspicious look, and Derek can’t really blame him. The Sheriff’s Department has spent the past week on search and rescue, after all, and they lost one of the hikers when he got turned around by the pixies and went over a cliff.

“They didn’t mean to kill anyone,” Derek assures him. “Pixies are mischievous, but they’re not killers. The death was an unfortunate accident.”

“And you managed to talk them into leaving how?”

“We...uh...we had a little help,” Derek admits, just barely holding back a wince when the Sheriff’s eyes narrow. “Cora texted Stiles.”

“I thought I made it clear that I don’t want my kid involved in any of this,” the Sheriff says, arms crossed over his chest and his jaw clenched. Derek’s been around him enough now to know when he’s about to dig in his heels, and he still doesn’t know what happened between Stiles and his father, but it’s obvious they haven’t worked it out.

“He’s already involved, Sheriff. Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean he’s not part of the supernatural world. Have you spoken to him at all?”

The Sheriff shakes his head, and just for a second his stubborn mask slips enough for Derek to see the despair there. The scent of regret fills the air between them, setting Derek’s own teeth on edge, because it’s clear that whatever made Stiles run so suddenly had something to do with his father.

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Once or twice,” Derek admits. “He hasn’t called you?”

He watches the Sheriff’s shoulders slump in defeat, then he runs a hand over his face. “We had...words, before he left. He’s probably still angry with me.”

“The first thing he asked last time I talked to him is whether or not you were okay,” Derek says. He hopes Stiles won’t be angry if he finds out Derek told his father that, but it’s worth it when the Sheriff’s eyes widen with something like hope.

“He did?”

“Sheriff, the whole reason Stiles didn’t tell you what was going on with Scott and all this werewolf stuff was because your safety was the most important thing to him. He didn’t want to lose you,” Derek adds, the ‘the way he’s lost you anyway’ implied.

If the Sheriff’s wince is anything to go by, he gets the hint. Derek can’t make him do anything about it, but for Stiles’ sake he hopes the Sheriff steps up and decides to be the parent. Then again, his kid’s all the way on the other side of the country now, so maybe he’s missed his chance.

“He’s okay, though?” the Sheriff asks, and now he just looks desperate.

“Yeah, he is. I only talked to him for a few minutes, but he seems to be learning a lot. He’s meeting other magic users and figuring out how to control his own power.”

Derek leaves out the part about Stiles’ new ink, since he’s pretty sure the Sheriff wouldn’t approve, no matter the extenuating circumstances. He doesn’t mention the fact that Stiles needed one of those tattoos to control his magic so he doesn’t implode, either, though it seems like maybe the Sheriff should know that his son’s in real danger.

“Look, sir, I can’t just leave Stiles out of pack business and hope for the best. There are things about our situation you don’t understand yet, but he’s still bonded to me.”

“Which you claim is going to kill him eventually.”

Derek shakes his head, doing his best to hold back the frustrated growl he can feel building. “The bond isn’t going to kill him. It’s his magic that’s the issue. The bond is unstable right now and that’s not helping, but I’m trying my best to convince him that he’s got a place here when he’s ready to come home.”

The Sheriff’s face gets more and more flushed as Derek explains, but before he can explode Derek changes the subject. “I think it would be a good idea for you to spend some time with the pack. Just to get to know them a little, to see that they’re all still just a bunch of kids. You can bring Scott’s mother with you if you like, she’s been aware of werewolves for a long time now.”

The stormy look that gets him tells Derek that the Sheriff’s not over the fact that Scott’s mom knew and didn’t tell him what was going on with their sons. Derek can’t really blame him, but blaming people for the past isn’t going to help any of them now. That’s one of the things he’s been working on during his sessions with Satomi, and he’s finally starting to believe it’s true.

“This bond business...what does it mean, exactly?”

Derek wills himself not to blush, because he doesn’t want to be the one to explain to the Sheriff what it’s going to take to fix the bond. He’s been trying not to think about it at all, mainly because he’s been denying his attraction to Stiles for so long than it’s almost second nature. But something must show on his face, because the Sheriff scoffs and looks away.

“My kid’s still underage until next spring,” he says, and Derek loses the fight with his blush. “Though according to the one text he’s bothered to send, he won’t be home before then anyway.”

“He said he’s coming home, then?” Derek asks, trying and failing to keep the hope out of his voice. 

The Sheriff’s shrug doesn’t instill a whole lot of confidence, but Derek clings to the idea that Stiles is planning to come back anyway. “He said not to expect him before the end of the school year. What that means I couldn’t tell you. That kid’s done what he wants since he was eight years old, and it’s never mattered what I had to say about it.”

Derek knows for a fact that that’s not true, but he doesn’t point it out. He can’t fix Stiles’ relationship with his father, even if he wants to, and he’s pretty sure Stiles wouldn’t thank him if he tried.

Instead Derek nods his thanks and reaches into his pocket for his keys. “The pack meets out by the old house on Saturday mornings. You’re welcome to join us any time.”

“You’re not letting those kids wander around in that house, are you?” the Sheriff asks, voice sharp. “That place is liable to come down on one of you any day now.”

Derek doesn’t bother pointing out that most of them are werewolves, so it wouldn’t hurt them anyway. The house is another one of those things he tries not to think much about, mostly because it represents the single worst mistake he’s ever made. But the property still belongs to the Hales, and maybe it’s time he did something about it too.

“We mostly stay outside,” is all Derek says, and when the Sheriff nods and turns back toward his cruiser, Derek knows the conversation is over. He has no idea if the Sheriff is going to show up to watch their training, or even if it will do any good, but Derek can’t help hoping that it’s just another step forward for all of them.


	35. Chapter 35

The winter solstice sort of sneaks up on Stiles. He’s been spending time with Kira, grabbing coffee after her classes and sometimes watching her katana practice. The last couple times he used his magic to throw moving targets for her to fight, and at the end of the practice Kira said her focus had never been better. 

Stiles doesn’t think it has anything to do with him or his magic, but it’s still nice to feel useful for once. It’s nice to work _with_ someone, even in a combat situation, instead of fighting tooth and nail the entire time just to get his voice heard.

It’s nice having someone around his age to hang out with, too, especially since Kira knows all about the supernatural. Well, she knows it exists, anyway, but her parents kept her sheltered enough that she spends a lot of their time together asking Stiles question after question about which stories are real and which he hasn’t found any proof of yet.

Stiles has to laugh when he realizes she asks as many questions as he does. She’s pretty, though, and she has that killer smile, so the pack probably wouldn’t find her nearly as annoying as they always seemed to find Stiles.

Just thinking of them still kills his mood, so he tries not to. He’s not even mad anymore, not really. Mostly he’s just sad that things worked out the way they did. He misses his friends, even if they don’t miss him, and there’s a part of him that wishes he could go back. But he can’t, not when nothing’s changed, so he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and focuses on Kira.

“Sorry I can’t make it to your Solstice celebration,” she says, and he can tell by her wry smile that she really wishes she was heading to Salem with him instead of going home to see her parents.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, mostly to make her feel better. “I’m sure you won’t be missing anything.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen a coven do a working together before,” she says. “Actually, I’ve never met a witch at all, at least not that I know of. Though I suppose I could have met a dozen of them back home and I wouldn’t have known it.”

Bitterness creeps into her usually sunny tone the same way it always does when she talks about her parents and the way they kept her in the dark for so long. He knows it bothers her, being so far behind in her supernatural education, and Stiles can’t really blame her. After all, he knows what it feels like to be pushed aside, even if their situations are a little different.

“I promise I’ll introduce you to Jeremiah when you get back from break,” he tells her. “Unless this whole solstice thing is too weird, and then I’m not going back at all.”

Kira grins at him, the expression oddly wolfish considering she’s technically a fox. “Do you think they do their rituals naked?”

Stiles lets out a snort and tries not to blush. “I seriously hope not, considering Jeremiah’s grandmother is the head of the coven.”

“That’s amazing,” Kira says, eyes shining with laughter as she giggles into her hand. It’s hard not to grin back at her, no matter how much he doesn’t want to encourage her when he has to go face the people in question and try _not_ to picture them all naked. Instead he pulls out his phone to check the time, then he frowns and stands up.

“Sorry to bail, but I have to go if I’m going to make it on time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kira says. She stands up and pulls him into a hug that’s a little awkward, but mostly nice. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

He leaves her in the cafe with one last wave, then he walks a block back to the car he borrowed from Corbin so he can drive to Salem and meet Jeremiah’s coven. It’s an easy enough drive, though traffic is heavy thanks to holiday shopping and people leaving campus to head home for winter break. He still manages to make it with a few minutes to spare, pulling up in front of the address Jeremiah texted him and peering up at the cheerful saltbox with its blue shutters and a holly wreath on the door.

For a few minutes he sits in the car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and wishing Kira had been able to come with him instead of catching the late bus to New York. It’s not that he’s scared; he’s hung out with Fae and with werewolves, after all, and if Corbin’s right his own power is stronger than the whole coven put together. But he can’t help remembering Julia and her idea of a ritual, and okay, maybe he’s a little nervous.

A knock on his window makes him startle, and he flushes and glares out through the glass at Jeremiah where he’s practically doubled over from laughing. Stiles shoves the driver’s side door open hard enough to make him stumble backwards, smirking at the shocked noise Jeremiah makes.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Hey, I was just wondering if you were planning to sit there all night,” Jeremiah says, stepping back to let Stiles climb out of the car and lock it.

“Whatever,” Stiles grumbles, but he doesn’t object when Jeremiah slings an arm around his shoulders and steers him toward the house.

“Come on, everyone’s downstairs already.”

‘Downstairs’ turns out to be a mostly unfinished basement with concrete floors and what looks like an altar set up at one end. It’s covered in a red cloth, anyway, and there are black and white candles surrounded by holly branches. There’s a wood stove in one corner of the room that’s not doing much to combat the chill in the air, and eight or nine people dressed in black robes are gathered in a circle at the center of the room.

They part when Stiles and Jeremiah descend the stairs, all of them turning expectantly toward the newcomers. At the center of the group is a woman with long gray hair that hangs in waves, and piercing blue eyes that make Stiles think of his father. He knows instantly that this is Jeremiah’s grandmother, the leader of the coven. Stiles steps forward and holds out his hand, taking hers when she offers it and giving her a little bow. 

“Crone Davies, I thank you for your hospitality,” he says, the words flowing out of him without having to think about it. He’s sure it’s part of some ritual, just like when he condemned Deucalion to be stripped of his power, that it’s his magic addressing her more than Stiles himself.

“The honor is mine, Spark Stilinski,” she answers with a curtsy of her own. Then her lips twitch and he can see the smile shining in her eyes. “My coven has heard much about you.”

His gaze slides over to Jeremiah, but all he gets is a shrug. Stiles nods and turns back to the coven, glancing once more at the faces of the rest of the people gathered. There’s no animosity that he can see, and when he reaches out with his magic none of them feel like a threat, so Stiles lets himself relax.

“You are welcome to join our circle while we call on the Triple Goddess,” Crone Davies says. She nods toward her coven and as one they reach up and unfasten their robes, and before he can blink eight people are standing in front of him naked as the day they were born.

“Oh,” Stiles says, blushing bright red and averting his gaze to the far corner of the room, and isn’t Kira going to have a field day when he tells her about this? “I didn’t...I mean…aren’t you cold?”

There’s a musical laugh from one of the girls, and when Stiles chances a glance over, doing his best to keep his eyes above her chin, he sees a girl who’s probably around Jeremiah’s age. She’s got chin-length brown hair and brown eyes, a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a kind smile.

“We prefer our natural states while we commune with the Goddess,” she explains, not even remotely embarrassed about being naked in front of a stranger. “Clothing just restricts the magic.”

The magic in the room doesn’t feel very strong, even though there are ten of them counting Jeremiah, but for once Stiles manages not to blurt out exactly what he’s thinking. Instead he just nods and averts his eyes again, jerking his chin toward the wood stove. “I’ll just watch from over there, if that’s okay.”

“Oh,” Crone Davies says, sounding almost disappointed, which, what? She glances over at Jeremiah, at any rate, but when Stiles follows his gaze he gets another eyeful of skin he definitely didn’t sign up for. Jeremiah’s back is covered in tattoos, just like his arms, but Stiles looks away again before he finds out if his legs are just as covered.

“Of course,” Crone Davies continues, still a little confused but rallying. “You are most welcome. Would you like a chair?”

“I’m good,” Stiles answers, because there’s no way he’s sitting down where he’ll be at eye level with everyone’s junk. As far as he knows there aren’t any werewolves around to smell inconvenient boners, but his jeans aren’t exactly forgiving, and he’s still a teenage virgin. 

Instead he moves away from the circle to lean against the wall near the stove, _believing_ as he goes that when he looks at any member of the coven, everything from the waist down will be blurry enough to keep him from catching sight of anything he can’t unsee.

* * *

Once Derek decides what he wants to do about his family’s property, it’s easy to get the rest of the pack involved. He runs his idea past Cora and Peter first, since they have just as much right to decide what happens to the remains of the old house as he does, but both of them seem happy with his plan. Which is how the pack finds themselves fanned out in a semicircle in front of the old house on the following Saturday, staring suspiciously while Derek climbs the steps to look down at them.

“You want us to what now?”

“I want to take the house down and rebuild,” Derek answers. “The loft is okay for now, but it’s not a real pack house. Chances are we’ll expand eventually, whether it’s by taking in omegas or offering the bite to someone new or pack members having kids of their own. We should have a place where we can all have our own space, and it’ll give you a place to come back to even if your families move on for whatever reason.”

“You mean you want us to move in here?” Scott asks at the same moment Isaac says, “Who’s having a baby?”

“Nobody,” Derek says immediately, before Cora can open her mouth and say something stupid. “I meant in the future, when you’re all done with school and starting lives of your own. And you wouldn’t move in right away. All of this is about planning for the future. Packs need stability to thrive, and that means a central pack house where we spend time together, even if you never move in.”

“So why not hire a bulldozer to come out and knock the place down?” Erica asks, glancing at her nails like maybe she’s worried about the toll tearing down a house by hand will take on her manicure.

“Because the whole point is to do it together. We need to learn to be a real pack, to depend on each other and work together. To trust each other. That can’t happen if we don’t start somewhere, and it might as well be here.”

On his left Derek catches a glimpse of Peter rolling his eyes, but he can feel the approval radiating off his uncle, so he doesn’t let it bother him. Instead he glances at each of them in turn, his gaze finally coming to rest on Lydia where she’s staring up at the house with a look of disgust that’s almost comical.

“Lydia? Are you in or out? We need to know.”

“So now my place in the pack hinges on whether or not I’m willing to perform manual labor?”

He manages not to roll his eyes, a fact he’ll be way too proud about later. “Tell you what, you and Allison can start by going on a food run. We’ll need lunch eventually, and I’m sure everyone would appreciate some water.”

“I don’t mind manual labor,” Allison says, frowning as though she’s trying to figure out if she’s being insulted. Derek’s still not that crazy about having her around all the time, but the others don’t seem to mind, and he knows if he wants to keep Scott in the fold that Allison’s part of the package, so he's trying to accept that she has a place in his pack in spite of her family name.

“There will be plenty to go around, I promise,” Derek answers. “But I can’t really spare any of the wolves in the initial stage when their strength will come in handy. And while I’m sure Peter would be happy to skip the manual labor, I doubt Lydia would feel very comfortable running errands with him.”

He hears Lydia stifle a shudder, but there’s no visible sign of her discomfort other than a narrowing of her eyes and a barely there glance in Peter’s direction. Allison still doesn’t look thrilled about it, but she nods and crosses to stand next to Lydia instead of Scott. “Fine. But I can help when we get back.”

“Thank you,” Derek says, watching them go before he turns back to the rest of his betas. “I want the rest of you working in pairs, and be careful. Just because you’re werewolves, that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. You can still die if you’re injured too badly to heal in time.”

The atmosphere gets heavy with the memory of all the werewolves who _did_ die right on this spot, but Derek clears his throat and nods toward Cora before things get awkward. “Cora’s with me. Peter too, though I doubt you’ll actually be working.”

His uncle smirks and doesn’t disagree, so Derek leads them all inside and heads upstairs with Cora to start pulling down walls. He listens to the others as they head down the hall in the opposite direction, he assumes to give the Hales a little privacy while they start tearing down the last physical reminder of their family still standing.

“I’m so going to ruin my nails,” Erica grumbles, and Derek almost smiles when he hears the quiet huff that means Boyd’s amused.

“Yeah, but you get to destroy stuff, so it’s a wash.”

He doesn’t need to see Erica to know she’s rolling her eyes, but she sounds amused all the same when she says, “Too bad Stiles isn’t here for this.”

“Why the hell would we want him here?” Isaac sneers, and Derek barely bites back his growl. “He’s the clumsiest of all of us, he’d probably get himself killed in the first hour.”

“Seriously?” Erica sneers right back at him, and Derek feels a swell of pride. “Did you not pay any attention at all to all the magic he did before he left? If he was here he could take this entire place down without a thought, and there wouldn’t even be a mess to clean up.”

“Whatever,” Isaac grumbles. “He’s been gone for over a month and nobody’s missed him. I say good riddance.”

“Okay, out with it. What’s your problem with Stiles?” Erica says, and Derek stops working, because this is a conversation he needs to hear. “Because you seem to hate the guy, but last time I checked you were the one who stole his best friend, and he’s never done anything to you.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Isaac says, but they all hear the skip in his heart at the lie. “Maybe he was a shitty friend and Scott just decided to trade up.”

“No, she’s right,” Scott pipes up, and now Cora and Peter are both standing still and listening intently as well. “I was the shitty friend, not Stiles. He’s the most loyal guy I’ve ever met. There were a million reasons for him to walk away after I got bitten, starting with me trying to kill him. Instead he stuck around and helped me, then he helped Derek and Erica and even you. So why do you hate him so much?”

This time Isaac doesn’t bother denying that he hates Stiles. Derek glances over at Cora and sees that her eyes are glowing, but she’s still got human teeth and nails. Peter looks bored, but Derek knows that just means he’s trying not to show any emotion at all.

“Because he knew about what my dad did to me, and he never said anything,” Isaac finally says, anger and shame in his voice, and Derek’s sure if they were in the same room his nose would be twitching from the dissonant scents.

“What? No he didn’t,” Scott protests, and now he sounds a little angry too. _About time,_ Derek thinks, but he can’t pretend that he’s been that much better about sticking up for Stiles over the past year.

“Yes, he did. When I was arrested and they questioned me, the cop said there was a witness who could back me up. He was trying to get me to incriminate myself by being nice, telling me there was a kid from my school who knew what happened and they could back me up on a self-defense plea. He knew and he told his dad after my dad was dead. Who else could it have been?”

“Jackson,” Scott says, his voice heavy, and Derek feels lead settling in his own stomach at the thought of letting someone like Jackson into his pack. “He lived right across the street from you, dude. He saw your dad hit you and never said anything. Stiles told me about it, said he overheard his dad on the phone with one of his deputies, complaining that they couldn’t press any charges against Jackson for not coming forward until he was picked up for questioning. That it was bullshit how he could just watch someone suffer and then shrug and walk away.”

“Did you really think Stiles would know about something like that and not say anything?” Boyd asks, voice quiet as ever but carrying that much more weight for being so solemn. “Not Stiles, man.”

“Yeah, I mean I know he can be kind of an asshole, but there’s no way he’d know something like that and not at least tell his dad, dude.”

“Jackson?” Isaac says, disbelief and something else in his voice. Guilt, probably, or at least that’s what Derek hopes he’s hearing.

“Yeah, Jackson. The guy you were busy sticking up for when Stiles bailed because we’re all shitty friends,” Scott answers.

Derek hears another growl and looks over at Cora, expecting to see her losing control, but then he realizes it’s Erica making the sound.

“If he was still here I’d kill him,” she snarls, and Derek wants to tell her to get in line. But he’s the one who gave Jackson power when he was already a selfish asshole, gave him even more reason to bully and intimidate and terrorize the people around him. It makes Derek even more glad that Jackson’s away from his pack, even if it took Stiles taking the decision out of his hands to make it happen.

“Shit,” Isaac says, quiet, and Derek’s sorry he’s feeling bad, but he’s glad Isaac’s finally realized what the rest of them already figured out. Well, everyone but Lydia, it seems, and he wonders if she knows exactly how awful Jackson’s always been, or if there are things about himself he hid even from her.

“He’s coming back,” Scott says, determined, and Derek hopes more than anything that he’s right. “And when he does, we’ll make it up to him.”

After that it’s quiet except for the sounds of drywall coming down and being tossed out the window frame a little more aggressively than strictly necessary. Derek exchanges another look with Cora and Peter, and he knows they’re both thinking exactly what he is. That they hope Scott is right and Stiles will be back soon, and when he does come back, they’re going to make sure he never has another reason to run.


	36. Chapter 36

The actual ritual goes pretty much the way Stiles expected. There’s chanting and then some Latin read out from a big, leather-bound book that makes the magic in the room spike for a second before it settles again. As far as he can tell it doesn’t actually do much, but it’s not harmful either, so he stays where he is and keeps his eyes focused on the yule log burning merrily away in the wood stove so he doesn’t have to watch ten naked witches raising their arms over their heads while they call the quarters.

Once they get through earth, air, water and fire their arms go down and Stiles ventures a quick glance at the circle, watching as the girl with the kind smile steps further into the circle and pours some wine into the bowl in the center. Jeremiah takes the bottle next and pours, then he hands it off to a third person. After that they join hands and call down the blessing of the triple goddess using an incantation Stiles is pretty sure Jeremiah’s grandmother made up.

He feels a shimmer of magic, then a rush of what feels like fond amusement in the air, and he knows it’s the goddess blessing their circle before she moves on to whatever it is lesser goddesses do when they’re not being called by covens.When none of them react he assumes they can’t feel her, that their magic isn’t strong enough even as a collective to sense the presence of a supernatural being.

Stiles looks at Jeremiah, but there’s no sign that he realizes anything just happened other than a simple prayer. He’d acted like he could sense Stiles’ magic when they first met, and Stiles had taken him at his word at the time, because he’d never met a witch before and he didn’t know what they could do. But now he realizes Jeremiah’s just a good actor, or maybe he’s just a good con.

He watches as someone picks up the bowl of wine and they pass it around, each of them taking a sip before Crone Davies raises her arms again and thanks the goddess for her blessing. Then she closes down the four corners, and the next thing he knows they’re breaking the circle and pulling their robes back on.

“That’s it?” Stiles says before he can stop himself. They all turn to look at him and he feels his cheeks flush, but it’s Jeremiah who answers.

“You were expecting an orgy, maybe?” he says, smirk firmly in place, but for the first time he looks just a little unsure of himself, like he’s actually worried about what Stiles thinks. 

“No, sorry, it’s just...I guess I expected the actual ritual to take longer. I mean I felt the goddess bless your working, so you got what you were after, but…”

“You felt the goddess?” Crone Davies interrupts, hand pressed over her heart and staring at him like he’s something special. “Here?”

“Yeah, that’s what you were going for, right?”

“Of course,” she answers, but she still sounds a little surprised. “It’s just...it’s a great honor. There are many covens calling to the triple goddess tonight.”

“Well perhaps the goddess sensed our guest and decided we were worthy of blessing,” Jeremiah says, his smirk more familiar this time. 

“So if we’ve proven ourselves worthy of the goddess, does that mean you’ve decided to join us?” the girl with the kind smile asks, her eyes wide with hope, and...what? 

“Wait a second,” Stiles says, then he looks at Jeremiah and narrows his eyes. “What did you tell them?”

The crone is staring at Jeremiah now too, lips thin and eyes dark and Stiles doesn’t need to hear the answer. 

“Seriously, dude?”

“Am I to understand that you brought a Spark into our coven under false pretenses?” Jeremiah’s grandmother says, and he flinches away from her. “You told us he was considering a bond, Jer. You said he was coming tonight to take part in our ritual, not just observe, as your _special guest_.”

Stiles feels the magic crawling under his skin, burning in his veins at the idea of another betrayal. And it doesn’t hurt as much as it did when Scott ditched him or when nobody bothered to stand up to Jackson for him, but it still sucks to know someone he thought was a friend was angling for something else all along.

“I told you I’m already bonded, asshole,” Stiles snarls, fighting to hold back his magic so he doesn’t accidentally wipe out the whole coven in a fit of rage.

“Sure, but it’s not a real bond,” Jeremiah says, glancing at his grandmother as though he’s talking to her as much as Stiles.

“You don’t know anything about it.” His voice is almost a growl now, and he thinks idly that Derek would be proud if he could hear him.

“I know enough. Corbin said…”

“Corbin doesn’t know everything,” Stiles interrupts. “And even if he did, you think you can stealth court me and...what, I won’t notice until we’re already bonded? That’s not how it works.”

“It doesn’t have to be me,” Jeremiah says, but something in Stiles’ expression makes him take a step back. “I mean, there are others in the coven who’d jump at the chance. It’s an unconventional choice, I know, but…”

There’s a gasp from a few of the coven members and he has a feeling his eyes are doing something weird, but it’s already taking all his energy to keep his magic from lashing out. He doesn’t want to hurt any of them, not really, but he knows he needs to get out of there before he loses it completely. 

“An unconventional choice? An _unconventional choice_?” Stiles sneers, the candles on the altar flaring until the flames shoot a foot in the air. He heard the shouts of fear from the other witches but he doesn’t bother apologizing. 

“Sorry, but I’m not going to join your little coven,” he says instead, waving a hand to snatch Jeremiah’s voice right out of him when he opens his mouth to argue. He watches as Jeremiah’s hand flies to his throat, eyes wide with fear as he realizes what Stiles has done. “You’ll have to get your power boost someplace else.”

He’s up the stairs and out of the house before any of them can stop him, fumbling for Corbin’s keys and letting himself into the car. He gets ten minutes out of town before he finds a place to pull over, his chest heaving with the beginnings of a panic attack. He grips the steering wheel hard and tries his best to breathe through it, counting to ten as slowly as he dares and then sucking in the deepest breath he can manage. 

He has no clue how much time passes before he pulls himself together enough to catch his breath, releasing his death grip on the steering wheel to wipe a hand over his eyes. He’s pretty sure he overreacted back there, but he’s getting tired of people pretending to like him only to find out that all they want from him is a power boost.

Stiles groans and leans his head back against the headrest, wishing he’d just used his magic to zap himself over to Salem so he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Amherst. He’s missed driving since he left his Jeep back in Beacon Hills, so borrowing a car to get to the solstice celebration had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he’s got a long, dark drive to stew alone about yet another betrayal. 

It’s tempting to magic Corbin’s car back to the house, but given the way he’s feeling it’s just as likely to end up at the bottom of Lake Huron as it is to end up in Amherst, let alone at the house. So he’s stuck with driving, hands shaking a little as he reaches for the keys to restart the ignition. 

His phone rings before he can get the car started again and he considers ignoring it, figuring it’s Jeremiah trying to do damage control. Then he remembers that he still hasn’t given Jeremiah his voice back and lets out a snort as he reaches for his phone. When he glances at the screen it’s the last name he expected to see, so he frowns and accepts the call.

“Derek?”

“Stiles,” Derek says, sounding almost relieved. “Are you okay?”

“I mean, physically I’m fine,” he answers, then he rolls his eyes at himself because the last thing he wants to do is tell Derek what happened tonight. “Why? You’re not getting death threats along with courtship offers now, are you?”

“No, it’s just...I felt...forget it,” Derek mutters, like maybe he’s embarrassed to admit to whatever it is that made him call. And Stiles could guess, but the last he knew the bond only went one way, so that’s impossible.

“You felt what?” he asks anyway, because he’s clearly a glutton for punishment.

“My chest felt tight all of a sudden, like I couldn’t breathe. I thought it was one of the betas stressing the pack bonds at first, but they’re all here, and then I realized I was probably feeling your distress.”

“I thought you couldn’t feel the bond,” Stiles says, voice small, and he hates himself a little for wanting to know that Derek really can feel him from so far away, even if it took a panic attack to make him notice.

“I didn’t...I think it was always there,” Derek answers, careful, as though he’s measuring his words. “But I ignored a lot of things back when it first formed, and I guess I just got used to it being there and never really thought about it. Once you left it started to feel stretched kind of thin, you know? I figured it was the pack bond, but tonight I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and then I realized it wasn’t _me_ I was feeling.”

“Yeah, I kind of had a panic attack,” Stiles admits, feels his cheeks heating up and he’s grateful Derek can’t see him.

“Did something happen?”

Stiles shakes his head and stares out at the dark road, grateful that there’s not much traffic to see him hunched over in the front seat of a borrowed car, doing his best not to cry at the concern in Derek’s voice.

“It’s no big deal. Just another magic user who wanted the boost my Spark could give them. At least this one didn’t try to kill me for it, though, right?”

“Stiles…” Derek says, but before he gets any further Stiles hears a door open on the other end of the line, then voices filtering through the connection. He recognizes some of the pack and assumes they’re all hanging out together, feels a twinge of hurt that he’s not there with them, but then he hears a voice that makes his heart stop.

“Is that my dad?” The door closes again and he has a feeling Derek’s moved away from the voices, shutting out whatever they’re laughing about, but the damage is already done. “Derek, why is my dad at your house?”

“Actually we’re at Scott’s house,” Derek answers. “The pack wanted to do something for Christmas and we knew your dad was going to be alone, so I asked if he wanted to join us. Melissa’s here too, I think that’s the only reason he came.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles says, rage making his vision blur for the second time that night. “You and my dad are pretty tight these days, huh?”

“He misses you,” Derek says, but Stiles can hear the guilt in his voice. “He asks about you, you know.”

“Funny, considering he hasn’t tried to call me since the week I left,” Stiles snaps, reaching up to wipe at his eyes again. “Did he tell you what he said to me before I left? Or is he still pretending to be the model father who’s stuck with a fuck-up for a son? I bet he’s having a great time hanging out with all of you now that I’m not around to ruin it for him.”

“Stiles, what…”

“Forget it,” Stiles says, talking over him. “Enjoy your party.”

He ends the call and tosses his phone on the passenger seat without bothering to turn it off. Derek calls him back right away, but Stiles ignores it, ignores the stinging in his eyes too and pulls back out onto the road.

* * *

Derek’s not really expecting the Sheriff to show up at the old house, even though he invited him, so he’s surprised when he looks up on the second day of demolition and spots a patrol car easing its way past the dumpster Derek rented. The Sheriff pulls to a stop next to Allison’s car and climbs out, staring at the wreckage of the old house for a long moment before he glances around to find the pack staring at him.

It’s obvious none of them were expecting him, and Derek feels the tension in the pack bonds when he steps forward. “Hale. This is what you call training?”

Derek shrugs, because that’s as good a word as any for what they’re doing. He can see the Sheriff doesn’t believe it, but he doesn’t push. Instead he inclines his head away from the pack, and Derek nods and leads him toward the woods. The rest of the pack will still be able to hear, but it gives the Sheriff a semblance of privacy, and that’s all he’s after. 

“Have you heard from him?” The Sheriff asks as soon as the betas are out of sight. 

“Not since the last time we spoke,” Derek admits with a sigh. He’s thought about calling Stiles more than once, but he hasn’t come up with a good enough excuse to do it. Not when he’s already asked Stiles to stay in touch, basically putting the ball in Stiles’ court. But he hasn’t called or texted Derek, so that must mean he doesn’t want to talk.

The Sheriff blows out a frustrated breath and runs a hand over his face. “I guess that means he’s definitely not coming home for Christmas, then.”

“Did you ask him to?” Derek asks, voice careful, because he’s still not interested in telling the sheriff how to be a father, but he’s pretty sure waiting around for Stiles to make the first move isn’t the best approach. 

“He won’t talk to me,” the Sheriff says, shaking his head and muttering ‘stubborn’ under his breath like Derek won’t be able to hear him. 

He doesn’t point out that the Sheriff hasn’t even tried, though it’s getting harder to hold his tongue. It’s getting harder not to point out that Stiles is the kid in this scenario, for all that he hasn’t had the luxury of acting like one for a long time. 

“Look, the pack’s planning a little get-together at Scott’s house for Christmas. You should join us. I’m sure Mrs. McCall would be glad to have you there.”

For a second he thinks the Sheriff is going to refuse. That he’ll make up some excuse about working and then spend his holiday alone in the bottom of a bottle, wallowing in self-pity. Maybe Derek should let him; Stiles is spending Christmas basically in exile, after all, and it’s at least partly his father’s doing. 

“I’ll think about it,” the Sheriff finally says, surprising Derek into looking up at him. 

“Good, that’s good,” he answers, though he’s not really sure how to feel about it. “I’ll have Scott get you the specifics.”

The Sheriff nods, then he’s striding back to his car with a curt nod in the pack’s direction. Derek follows, rounding the side of the house to find his betas standing in front of the wreckage of the old porch waiting for him. 

“You’ve talked to Stiles?” Scott says, his tone caught between betrayal and a weird kind of hope, which is better than the anger Derek was expecting. 

“A couple times,” he admits. “He seems happy, for now.”

“He’s made some friends,” Cora volunteers, and when they all turn to look at her she just shrugs. “What? We text.”

“He’s texted me too,” Erica adds, smug, and Derek has to look away to hide his smile. “He's been hanging around some girl. A kitsune, whatever that is.”

“It’s a fox spirit,” Derek supplies automatically, trying not to let on that this news has taken him by surprise. He hasn’t heard anything about a kitsune hanging around Stiles; it doesn’t have to mean anything, but he can’t help wondering what it is they do together. 

“So, like, a ghost?”

Derek rolls his eyes at Scott and crosses his arms over his chest. “No, she’s a person with a fox spirit inside her. Kitsunes are from Japan, they live for centuries and their powers come from the spirit that dwells within them. They're not shifters the way we are, but their eyes can change and they have certain abilities, depending on the type of fox they embody.”

“Is he dating her?” Lydia asks, eyes narrowed as she stares down Erica, but it’s Cora who answers. 

“Don’t be stupid, he’s bonded to Derek.”

Lydia makes a dismissive noise and Cora scowls, so Derek steps between them before they can start a fight. “Enough. Let's get back to work. Stiles can tell you all about his new friends when he comes home.”

They grumble but move away to start picking up charred boards and drywall and tossing it in the dumpster, Scott and Lydia taking turns grilling Erica and Cora about what Stiles has been up to. They don’t seem to know that much more than the fact that he’s been hanging around a kitsune. Neither of them mentions the witch tattoo artist, anyway, or even the fact that Stiles has tattoos now.

Derek swallows a sigh and thinks again about calling him, but he knows he can’t ask any of the questions he wants to. It’s none of his business who Stiles spends his time with unless Stiles wants to tell him, and since he hasn’t called, Derek can only assume he doesn’t. So Derek ignores the tug in the center of his chest that feels like something missing and forces himself to get back to work.


	37. Chapter 37

Stiles has to pull over two more times before he finally makes it back to Amherst. It’s not that he’s on the verge of panic or that he’s crying too much to drive, it’s that he’s so _angry_ he feels like he’s going to fly apart at the seams. And the worst part is that he knows he’s overreacting, that if his magic was more stable he wouldn’t have reacted so badly to Jeremiah or the fact that Derek’s still talking to his father behind his back. That his father’s spending time with the pack, the same pack that he ordered Stiles to stay away from.

There’s part of him that thinks he should be grateful, because at least someone’s looking out for his father when he can’t be there to do it. Except his father isn’t looking out for him, and he already knew it hurts to care more than the other person in the relationship thanks to Scott, but he never thought his own dad would make him feel that way.

Or maybe he’s just been in denial for a really long time, considering how long it took his dad to crawl out of his fog after his mom died. By then Stiles was already taking care of meals and laundry and even the cleaning, and his dad just let him keep on with it when he finally checked back into his life. Told Stiles that he was proud of him for stepping up, but never once did he say he was sorry for leaving his eight-year-old to twist in his own grief for over a year.

At the time Stiles had told himself it was okay, that he had Scott and Scott’s mom and eventually his dad would come back to him. And he did, in a way, but he’s never seemed all that interested in being the kind of father he was before his mom died. They didn’t go on family camping trips anymore, didn’t go to the diner on Sunday mornings for a big breakfast or put up decorations on holidays. They lived in the same house and his dad started buying groceries more or less regularly again, but he left the rest of the chores to Stiles.

He knows he had it a lot better than some people, no matter how checked out his dad was. He’d never hit Stiles, usually didn’t yell at him unless he was drunk or Stiles got in too much trouble at school. But even then he still kept his grades up and the house in order, so his dad didn’t have much to complain about. Or so he’d thought, but it turns out his dad’s just been waiting this whole time to get rid of him, to find a better son and trade in the old, defective one.

Stiles sniffs and wipes hard at his eyes with the back of one hand as he lets himself into the quiet house. There’s no sign of Corbin or Daphnis, but right now that’s fine with him, because he’s pretty sure he can’t handle finding out that they knew about Jeremiah’s plan. He can’t take another betrayal, not without losing control completely, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

He makes his way through the dark house, up the creaky stairs and down the hall to the guest room. More than anything he wishes he was going home instead, to his own room and his own bed. But he’s not sure he has a home anymore, if he’s even welcome back in his dad’s house after the way they left things. It’s not like his father has tried all that hard to work things out, or even admitted that he’d crossed a line with the things he said.

There was a time when Scott’s house would have counted as much as his own when he thought about home, but there’s no room for him there, either, not with Isaac sleeping in the guest room. Melissa likes him better than she’s ever liked Stiles, which hurts more than it probably should, considering she’s always found him pretty annoying. Still, he’d always just kind of thought that was how they related to each other, but he’s not so sure now. Maybe she’s just as glad he’s gone as everyone else in the pack. Maybe she hasn’t even noticed, except to think that Isaac’s a much better surrogate son than Stiles ever was.

He feels the magic crawling under his skin again, crackling and sparking in a way he knows means it wants to escape. It wants to lash out, to put everything he’s feeling into action, but if that happens Stiles is pretty sure the whole house will come down.

It takes all his focus to center himself enough to calm his magic, but when he feels like he’s back in control he crosses to the bed and sits down cross legged in the center of the mattress. He still sucks at meditation, but Corbin insists he keep trying, because it’s supposed to help with his control almost as much as the tattoo over his ribs. So Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on the rune inked into his skin, feels it warm and glowing as he pours more of his magic into it.

Once his magic feels more settled he lets his mind wander, pushing magic into the runic compass inked just over his left shoulder blade instead. It’s meant to keep him on the right path, and even though he feels like he’s been veering off track for a long time now, he knows he has to trust the magic. So he focuses on each point of the compass, letting himself slip further into the hazy gray inside his head, until suddenly he’s blinking at the figure taking shape in the fog.

He knows who it is even before her features come into focus, and Stiles’ heart clenches with such _longing_ it nearly takes his breath away. “Mom.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” she says, her smile a little sad. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Why?” he asks, frowning, because as far as he’s concerned all he’s done since the last time he saw her is screw up. “My magic’s going haywire and if I don’t find a way to fix it I’m going to burn up.”

In his darkest moments he wonders if that would be such a bad thing. He’d get to be with his mother again, he’s pretty sure, and it’s obvious the pack would go on just fine without him. They seem to be doing better than ever now that he’s gone, and if they’re already looking after his father then he doesn’t need Stiles anymore either.

His mother frowns like she can tell what he’s thinking, but she doesn’t call him on it. Instead she reaches out, fingers warm where they cup his cheek, even though it feels more like an echo of a touch than the real thing. “I need you to do something for me, Mischief.”

He rolls his eyes at the nickname he hasn’t heard in almost a decade, but his heart clenches again all the same. “Anything.”

Another smile, this one amused, and he realizes that maybe he shouldn’t be agreeing so readily when he has no idea what his mother wants. Still, she’s his mom, and she has to know he’d do anything for her, no matter the cost. So he doesn’t protest when she leans in again and presses her lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment before she pulls away again. When she lets go he feels it, settling in next to the message he’s still carrying around for Derek.

“Give that to your father.”

“Dad’s not…”

“Your father is lost,” she interrupts with another sad smile. “I’m proud of you for choosing yourself over your loyalty, never doubt that. But you don’t have to lose him unless you want to. He may be stubborn, but he does love you very much.”

“He thinks I’m a burden,” he says, shaking his head. “He couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

“He’s afraid. He doesn’t understand how special you are, so you have to make him understand. Start by delivering my message.”

Stiles sighs, but he knows he’s going to do it, because his mother asked him to. He doesn’t want to see his dad, doesn’t want to be the one to go crawling back when his father can’t even pick up the phone and ask him to come home for Christmas, but he can’t say no to his mom.

“Okay,” he says, and when she smiles like she really is proud of him, he figures it’s worth it.

“I have a message for you as well,” she says, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “Talia says that Derek is ready to hear what she has to say. So when you deliver your father’s message, you can deliver his too.”

Even a few hours ago he might have welcomed an excuse to see Derek in person, but now he’s dreading it almost as much as he’s dreading seeing his dad. If he didn’t think it would actually give his dad a heart attack he might slip into the house while he was sleeping and pass the message along that way, but he knows better than to try to sneak up on a werewolf, asleep or not.

“Fine,” he says, and he’s not whining, he’s just exhausted. “I’ll go, just...I need a little time to work up to it.”

She smiles again, and he can tell she’s kind of laughing at him, but he mostly doesn’t mind. “Don’t take too long. They both want to hear from you.”

Stiles lets out a snort of disbelief that makes his mom roll her eyes, and just for a second it feels almost like she could be alive again. Like he could stay with her here, in this space between worlds, and he wouldn’t have to worry about his dad or Derek or people who only want to use him for his magic.

“You have to go, sweetheart,” she tells him, sad smile back again, and now he knows she can tell what he’s thinking. “It’s not safe to spend too much time beyond the veil. You have a life waiting for you, don’t forget that.”

“Some life,” he says, bitterness creeping into his voice as he thinks about the coven and the pack back home, happy without him.

“It’s the only one you’ve got,” she says, just to make Stiles roll his eyes. “You’ve got such a big heart, my Mischief. Trust in it, it won’t lead you astray.”

“Yeah, because that’s really worked out so far.”

The exasperated look his mother gives him is one he remembers well from before she was sick, and his heart does a somersault at the sight of it. “It led you to Kira, didn’t it?”

“Corbin led me to Kira.”

“And you can trust both of them,” she says, voice gentle, as though she can tell how much he needed to hear that. “Your heart led you to Derek as well, don’t forget. You can trust it.”

“I think I liked it better when you weren’t in the Derek Hale fan club,” he grumbles, but she just laughs and presses another kiss to his forehead.

“I’m _your_ biggest fan,” she tells him as she starts to fade away. He wants to reach out, to hold on and keep her with him, just a little longer, but before he can so much as blink, she’s already gone.

* * *

Derek gives up on calling Stiles after he gets his voicemail for the third time. Instead he pulls up his texts and sends a brief _I’m sorry, please call me back_ before he shoves his phone back in his pocket and shuts his eyes. He leans against the McCalls’ porch railing and breathes through the anger spiking inside him, knows it’s Stiles he’s feeling and prays he’ll get a chance to explain.

Even if Stiles decides he’s done with all of them, Derek can’t have him thinking they’d go behind his back again. He can’t let Stiles think they’ve somehow moved on, that they’ve welcomed the Sheriff where Stiles himself never felt welcome. He can’t have Stiles thinking Derek would choose someone else over him. _Again_ , the traitorous part of his brain whispers, but Derek ignores it and forces himself to calm down enough to go back inside.

As soon as he steps into the living room most of his betas are on alert, watching him as though they’re waiting for something. The humans are mostly oblivious, along with Scott, who’s got his back to Derek while he watches his mom and the Sheriff laugh over something.

“Sheriff,” Derek says, fighting to keep his voice even through the hurt and anger bleeding through the bond.

The man in question looks over at him, smile fading when he takes in Derek’s expression. “What is it? Is it Stiles?”

Derek shakes his head, because he knows what the Sheriff’s asking. He thinks Stiles has been hurt and Derek’s the one stuck delivering the message, probably, or maybe that Stiles has decided not to come home at all. 

“It’s not...he’s not hurt, not physically,” Derek says, and he can see that his words are just making things worse, but he doesn’t know how else to say any of this. “I felt his distress through our bond, so I called him.”

Several people start talking at once, so Derek holds up his hand to stop them. “I don’t have all the details, but I know he’s not in any danger right now. He’s not answering his phone, either, so there’s no point in trying to call him,” he adds when a few of them reach for their phones.

“Hale,” the Sheriff says in a tone of voice that’s probably supposed to intimidate him, but mostly it makes Derek’s own anger swell along with what he can feel from Stiles. “Tell me what happened to my kid.”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just that another magic user wanted to take his power, and Stiles stopped it. But then he heard your voice and got angry.”

He sees the way the Sheriff flinches before he pulls himself together and squares his shoulders. “Why would hearing my voice make him angry?”

“Maybe because you haven’t tried to call him since the first week he left,” Derek answers, his jaw clenching at the stubborn look on the Sheriff’s face. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this in front of the entire pack, that it’s only going to make the Sheriff dig his heels in even harder, but the anger in Derek’s chest is too overwhelming to let him think logically. “He said I should ask you what you said to him to make him leave.”

“That’s none of your business,” the Sheriff snaps, face going a little red, and Derek wonders vaguely how mad Stiles will be if Derek drives his father to a heart attack after all.

“He made it my business,” Derek says, keeping his voice as calm as he can manage. “He’s bonded to me. I can feel his hurt.”

For a second he thinks the Sheriff is going to yell, maybe tell him where he can take his bond, or even try to claim that Stiles is lying. But Derek stares him down until he deflates, glancing toward Melissa before he lets out a sigh and lets his shoulders slump.

“It was just a slip of the tongue. He knows I didn’t mean it.”

“He sounded like he thought you meant it,” Derek says. “Or at least he sounded like he was still hurt.”

For the first time since Derek met him the Sheriff looks stricken, as though he had no idea his words could have that effect on his son. Derek remembers him saying something about Stiles doing whatever he wanted and wonders exactly when his dad gave up on him, if it was right after he lost his wife or if it took longer than that for him to wash his hands of all the hard parts of fatherhood. 

“I...Jesus,” the Sheriff mutters, running a hand over his face.

“John,” Melissa says, reaching out to rest a hand on the Sheriff’s arm. “What happened?”

“It’s all this magic business,” he says, finally lowering his hand to look over at her. “I had a hard time believing it at first, and then I started wondering, why now? If he’s always been this Spark or whatever, why did it take so long to show up?”

“It had to be activated,” Derek says, but the Sheriff just shakes his head without looking over.

“When Gerard killed him, I know. But I didn’t know that yet, so I asked…” He trails off and takes a deep breath, looking anywhere but at the eyes staring back at him. “I asked why he couldn’t use it to save his mother.”

This time the swell of anger Derek feels is all his own. He knows exactly what it’s like to blame himself for something he had no control over, after all, and he knows how that kind of blame can worm its way inside a person and ruin everything it touches.

“John,” Melissa says again, shock and maybe a little admonition in her voice this time.

“I know,” he says, finally looking up at her. “I didn’t mean it. He knows I didn’t mean it. But he’s been so secretive for so long, sneaking around and sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong, and…”

“And you wanted to hurt him like he’d been hurting you,” Derek finishes for him.

“Dude,” Scott says, indignant, because of course Scott’s still going to defer to the Sheriff even though Derek’s his Alpha.

“No, he’s right,” the Sheriff says before Derek can put him in his place. “It was an awful thing to say. But he never stays mad for long, and I figured once he got over it he’d call and we’d be fine.”

“So you haven’t even tried to apologize?” Cora butts in, rolling her eyes when Derek flashes her a warning look. “You might be my Alpha, but Stiles is my friend. I’m allowed to stick up for him.”

“Look,” Melissa says, scanning the room as the rest of Derek’s betas try to shrink into the background. “I had a hard time when I found out about all this too. Scott remembers how badly I took it at first. So it’s understandable that your reaction was less than ideal. But you’ve got to make this right, John. He’s still your son.”

“How? He won’t answer when I call,” he says, but even he must hear what a lame excuse that is.

“You haven’t tried since the first week,” Derek reminds him. “You might think he knows you didn’t mean it, but it was obvious when I spoke to him that he believes you do. He thinks you’re glad to be rid of him.”

“He said that?” the Sheriff asks, reaching for his phone, but Melissa stops him before he does anything he regrets.

“You can’t call him now, not when you’re both upset,” she says, then she takes him by the elbow and leads him toward the kitchen. Derek listens as she talks softly to him, reminding him how much Stiles loves him and promising they’ll get through this. Derek’s not quite as convinced, not with the emotions he can still feel rolling through him, but he lets them go and turns back to his pack. 

Lydia declined to show, and Peter wasn’t eager to see Melissa again, but the rest of them are there, most of them staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You can really feel what he’s feeling?” Cora asks. “Does that mean the bond is repairing itself?”

Derek shakes his head and ignores the hope that flutters in his chest at the question. “No. I think it means his control is getting worse. His feelings are bleeding through the bond more intensely because his magic is getting stronger.”

“But that means…” Erica says, trailing off as though not saying it out loud will keep it from happening. 

“It means we need to bring him home and soon,” Derek finishes for her, because he doesn’t want to think about the alternative.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late again! Mainly because this chapter was so hard for me to write and I don't even know why. My outline went out the window ages ago. But! We now have a gorgeous banner, made by the talented and generous [surfgirl1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/surfgirl1/pseuds/surfgirl1). You can view it [here](https://sterekcrush.dreamwidth.org/file/399.jpg) and I will get it posted on the first chapter just as soon as AO3 decides to cooperate with me.

When Stiles comes back to himself the house is still silent. He wipes at his eyes and climbs off the bed, ducking across the hall to the bathroom to go through his nighttime routine, even though he’s positive he won’t be able to sleep.

Once his teeth are brushed and his bladder’s empty he goes back to his room, picking up his phone where he dropped it on the desk and scrolling through his notifications. He ignores the calls and the text from Derek, skips the one from Cora too but pauses when he sees a new text from Kira. 

It’s tempting to ignore her too, to go back to feeling sorry for himself and worry about the rest of the world tomorrow. But his mom said he could trust Kira, and her text asking about how things went with the coven only arrived half an hour ago, which means there’s a good chance she’s still awake. 

Stiles dials her number before he can talk himself out of it, and when she picks up on the second ring he swallows a relieved sigh. 

“So? Were they naked?”

He can hear the amusement in her voice and smiles in spite of himself. “Don’t remind me.”

“No way!” she shrieks right in his ear, making Stiles wince and pull his cell away until she’s done. “Tell me everything right now.”

“It’s kind of a longer story than it should be,” he admits. “Listen, I know you’re supposed to be spending time with your parents and everything, but do you think you could get away for a little while? I just...I need to get out of here.”

The idea comes to him out of nowhere, and he’s asking the question before he can stop himself. As soon as he does he regrets it, not because he doesn’t want to go somewhere — anywhere — but because Kira barely knows him, and she doesn’t want to put up with his bullshit. 

But there’s nowhere else for him to go, when it comes down to it. He can’t go home, not with the pack mostly hating him and his own father already shopping around for a new and improved son. He doesn’t have any other friends, at least not anyone who’s not more interested in his magic than him, so Kira’s pretty much his only option. 

“Oh,” Kira says, surprised, and Stiles braces himself for her to fumble her way through some excuse. “No, of course you can come. Actually my parents would probably like to meet you, considering you’re kind of famous and all. Plus it would give me an excuse to get out of the house if you were here.”

“Really?” he asks, because he doesn’t want to pressure her or anything, but the idea of getting lost in New York sounds perfect right now.

“Totally,” she answers, and it sounds like she means it. It sounds like she’s looking forward to it, and Stiles swallows a relieved sigh. “So when can you be here? Are you going to get the train in the morning or…”

Stiles smiles at that, because they’ve been hanging out for weeks now and she’s still not used to the whole Spark thing. “Where are you right now?”

“My bedroom, why? Are you in the city already? I’ll meet you, tell me where you are.”

Stiles just shakes his head and shuts his eyes, then he _believes_ that when he opens them he’ll be standing in Kira’s room. He feels the familiar tug at the base of his stomach that tells him his magic is working, and when he hears a gasp he opens his eyes in time to catch Kira when she launches herself at him. 

“You jerk! You didn’t tell me you could teleport!”

Stiles laughs and hugs her back. “Unlimited magic kinds of comes with the whole Spark thing. I just don’t do it that often because it gets kind of tricky making sure no one sees me.”

“Unlimited magic. That’s so cool,” she says, letting go of him only to grab his arm and drag him over to her bed. “So spill. Tell me what happened with the coven.”

“What, right now? Shouldn’t I come back tomorrow, after you’ve had a chance to run this by your parents?”

“Don’t be silly. You can just magic your stuff here, right? And the guestroom is right next door, so you can stay the night and tomorrow I’ll show you around the city.”

“You’re sure your folks will be cool with me staying? I thought they were trying to keep you away from all this supernatural stuff.”

Kira shrugs and bounces a little on her mattress where she’s sitting across from him. “Yeah, but like I said, they’re going to want to meet you. Plus, it’s not like the whole supernatural thing is all we have in common. We’re friends, right? They always want to meet my friends. Now stop changing the subject and tell me about the witches.”

He grimaces at the reminder, but launches into the story anyway, pausing whenever Kira shrieks or bursts into giggles at his descriptions. In hindsight it is pretty hilarious, even though at the time he’d mostly just wanted to slap his hand over his eyes and make a run for it.

“So that’s it?” Kira asks when he’s finished, still smiling, but it’s more confused than anything. “They just called on some goddess and didn’t even notice when she swung by?”

“Wiccans don’t have a lot of power,” Stiles says. “But I guess they _like_ it just as much as everybody else, because it turns out this whole time Jeremiah’s been plotting to get me to bond myself to them.”

“Like, all of them?” Kira says, her nose wrinkling at the thought, and Stiles is caught between laughing and groaning.

“Well, no, technically the actual bond would only be with one of them, but the whole coven would get a boost from having a Spark around.” For instance, getting random goddesses to swing by a simple Solstice celebration when she typically wouldn’t bother. “Anyway, I kind of overreacted when I realized what he wanted. I just wish he’d been upfront with me from the start, you know?”

“That’s fair,” Kira says, nodding solemnly and proving what a great friend she is. “I mean, I know it’s a big deal for a lot of people, or at least that’s what my mom says, but it still sucks that you have to wonder if everyone you meet likes you for you or for your magic.”

“Exactly,” he says, smiling gratefully when she nods again.

“Well then, for the record, I still don’t want to bond with you.”

Stiles laughs, but it sounds weary, even to him. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

She grins and slaps him on the shoulder, then she’s climbing off her bed again. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room. No offense but you look really tired.”

“Thanks,” he says, following her out of her room and down the hall to the next room. When they get there she throws her arms around him again, stretching up on her tiptoes to hug him firmly. Stiles hugs her back, grateful that at least he’s got Kira on his corner. 

“Get some sleep,” she says when she pulls back.“You’re going to need it for tomorrow.”

Before he can ask what that’s supposed to mean she’s gone, slipping back into her own room and closing the door. Stiles sighs and closes his own door, focusing his magic long enough to leave a message for Corbin on the kitchen table and retrieve a change of clothes before he walks into the small en suite off the guest room. 

He’s already ready for bed, technically, but he stands in front of the mirror anyway, staring at his reflection and trying to figure out what it is about him that makes it so easy for people to throw him away. All he sees is the face that always reminds his father too much of his dead wife, the eyes he never wanted to look at when he was too drunk to remember that he’s supposed to at least pretend to love his kid.

He sees the face of a seven-year-old kid who fell hard and fast for a teenage werewolf who wanted nothing to do with him, who probably only wants him now because of all the power his Spark can bring to the pack. He sees the kid whose best friend traded up as soon as he got the chance, first with a girlfriend and then with another guy, and Stiles still isn’t sure which hurts more.

Anger hits him like a punch to the gut and he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers curling into fists to hold in the magic that wants to burst free. He’s not going to burn down Kira’s house, not when she welcomed him here and didn’t laugh at him for running away from...everything. He’s not going to do that to her parents, either, not when he hasn’t even met them yet.

The thought is enough to settle his magic, the anger easing away as the itching feeling in his veins subsides. And he knows what all this means, knows his time is almost up and he’s going to have to figure out a solution, one way or another. There’s a part of him that just wants to admit defeat and go home, to beg Derek to give the bond a shot if he has to, but there’s another, larger part of him that knows he won’t be able to handle the humiliation if Derek turns him down. He’s already practically thrown himself at Derek and gotten nothing but regretful looks and ‘sorry’ in text form. He’s not doing it again, even if it means he eventually explodes like some kind of magical supernova.

Stiles sighs and pushes away from the mirror without looking at his reflection again. He turns off the lights and climbs into the unfamiliar bed, stretching out and resigning himself to a sleepless night spent trying not to think about all his regrets.

* * *

No matter how it might look from the outside, Derek definitely doesn’t set out to eavesdrop on Melissa and the Sheriff’s conversation. He tries to focus on the conversation in the living room instead, to his betas working out a plan to get Stiles to come home when he’s barely speaking to any of them. 

“It’s going to take a lot of apologies,” Allison says. 

“ _Sincere_ apologies,” Cora adds, and Derek thinks vaguely that she’s probably glaring at Scott and maybe Isaac. He’s not positive, though, because most of his focus is on the conversation in the kitchen. 

“I’m a terrible father,” the Sheriff says, voice muffled like maybe he’s got his hands over his face.

“John,” Melissa says, a no-nonsense edge in her voice, “Stiles loves you, you know that.”

“It’s just that sometimes when I look at him, all I can see is Claudia.”

“That’s only natural,” Melissa says, voice a little softer now. “Do you think I don’t look at Scott and see Rafe half the time?”

“When he got old enough to stay alone I started taking more night shifts, just so I wouldn’t have to be there when he got home and see him looking like her.”

There’s a pause, and the tiniest intakes of breath before Melissa answers. “John.”

That’s all she says, like she can’t believe her ears, and Derek knows the feeling. He can hear the Sheriff crying quietly now, wonders how he dares when his own son is the one who’s been left to deal with this all alone.

The truth is that Derek’s never given much thought to the loss Stiles has suffered. He knew that Stiles’ mom was dead, even remembers it happening in a vague, hazy way. But he still had his father, whereas Derek had lost nearly everyone. Surely Stiles’ loss was nothing compared to his own, right? Only it turns out Stiles hasn’t had his father all this time, at least not in the way Derek assumed, and suddenly he can’t decide if it’s worse to lose both his parents, knowing they loved him without reservation, or to be left with a father who can barely stand the sight of you.

“John,” Melissa says again, once the crying has subsided a little, “have you ever said any of this to Stiles?”

“What? God, no, of course not,” the Sheriff answers, sounding a lot more horrified at the idea than Derek thinks he has any right to be. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because it reminded me of a time when the boys were younger, and Stiles had spent the entire weekend here. He’d started to wear on my patience so I starting hinting that maybe it was time for him to go home, that you’d probably want him back in his own bed.” Derek can’t see her, but he can almost hear the guilt in her voice, and he can’t tell if it’s for trying to kick Stiles out when he clearly had no one else, or if it’s because of whatever she’s about to say to the Sheriff. “He said, ‘no, my dad doesn’t want to look at me right now’. God, I didn’t think he _meant_ it. Then I made him leave anyway, just so I could get some peace.”

“I would never…” John trails off, uncertain, and Derek’s claws pop out to dig into his palms.

“You were still drinking a lot then. Are you sure you’d remember?”

The only answer is silence, which tells Derek everything he needs to hear. And he knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry on Stiles’ behalf, because it’s not like Derek’s ever treated him any better than anyone else in his life. He’s been let down by everyone he knows, everyone who’s supposed to love him and keep him safe, and if he ever comes back to Beacon Hills it will be a miracle.

A hard kick to his thigh brings him back to the present, and he frowns over at Cora. “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” she says, glancing pointedly at his hands until he looks down and sees that his claws are embedded in his palms. Slowly he retracts them, watching as the wounds close up and leave behind nothing but tacky smears of red.

He grits his teeth until the urge to tear someone apart subsides, reaching down the bond to see if he can feel what Stiles is feeling. All he gets is a vague sense of unease along with an aching sadness, less intense than the breathless clenching in his chest brought on by his earlier panic attack. It tells him Stiles has at least managed to get some control over his magic for the moment, but it’s hard to take comfort in that when he knows it’s only a matter of time before Stiles _can’t_ control it anymore.

“So? Want to tell us why you’re using yourself as a pincushion?”

Derek blows out a deep breath and shakes his head. He’s surprised none of the other wolves listened in on the conversation in the kitchen, but they all seemed pretty focused on coming up with a plan to get Stiles back. 

“It’s...I can still feel him. Not as intensely as before, but I can feel how sad he is.”

It feels a little like a betrayal to give away even that much, but at least he knows for sure now that everyone in the room cares about Stiles.

“Derek…”

He frowns at the pity in Cora’s voice, because he doesn’t deserve it. He knows she’s worried too, about Stiles and about what will happen to the rest of them if they don’t get him back. Already they’re all on edge, guilt and misplaced blame making them snap at each other when they should be holding each other even closer. They’re making strides in their training, and he’s been working on getting them to trust each other, but they have a long way to go and he’s starting to worry they won’t get there in time. Still, he has to try; he owes Stiles that much. 

“I’ll call him again in the morning.”

“Dude, he's not answering any of us,” Scott says, expression glum as he stares down at his phone like he’s willing it to ring. 

“Then I’ll call again, and I’ll keep calling until he does answer. I’ll go out there and talk to him in person if I have to. But we’re not giving up, okay? I’m not giving up.”

There’s no way he’s giving up, not when he’s already failed Stiles over and over again. Not when everyone else has let him down too. If Stiles decides to break the bond Derek can’t stop him, but before that happens he’s going to do everything he can to convince Stiles to give him just one more chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: AO3 did something wonky to my paragraph breaks when I c&ped this chapter, so if you notice anything weird in the text let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks for being patient! I will try to get the next chapter out faster. ♥


	39. Chapter 39

When Stiles wakes up it takes a few seconds to remember where he is. He blinks at the unfamiliar bed and the unfamiliar walls, mind racing until he remembers calling Kira last night and taking her up on her invitation to spend the night. He’s not sure when he finally fell asleep, but when he hears a soft knock on the guest room door he throws the covers back and climbs out of bed. 

He pulls the door open to find Kira smiling at him, looking way too alert for this early in the morning. “Hey, breakfast is ready and my folks are waiting to meet you.”

Stiles nods and leaves the door open, ducking back into the bathroom to wash up quickly and change back into the clothes he’d been wearing the day before. When he’s done he steps back out into the room to find Kira sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone while she waits.

“A couple of my friends from high school want to meet up later,” she says, glancing at him. “It’s just some kids from Mathletes. Kind of nerdy, I know.”

She pauses to grin at him, and he smiles back in spite of the fact that he’s messing with her plans already. “You should go. I can entertain myself. Or just head back to Corbin’s, that’s cool too.”

“What? No, you’re coming with me,” she says, shaking her head like he’s being ridiculous. “And you’re staying here at least through the weekend. You can’t see the city in one morning, silly.”

“Your friends don’t want some random guy showing up,” he tries to argue, but she just fixes him with a look that lets him know she’s not taking no for an answer.

“You’re not some random guy, you're my friend,” she tells him, then she stands up and loops her arm through his to drag him toward the stairs and down to the dining room. He didn’t actually see any of the house the night before, but now he can see that Kira’s parents live in a two-story row house that’s decorated with what looks like a bunch of Asian antiques. 

There’s a carved table at the bottom of the stairs, with a vase sitting on it that looks more expensive than Stiles’ entire house. It’s a little nerve wracking, considering he’s not the most graceful person, so he gives the table a wide berth on the way to the dining room and hopes he won't manage to bump into anything irreplaceable while he's here. 

Both Kira’s parents are sitting at the table, drinking coffee out of actual china and sharing a copy of the New York Times. They look up when he and Kira walk in, Mr. Yukimura smiling while his wife looks on warily. 

He’s never actually seen anyone eat breakfast in a formal dining room before. Hell, he can't even remember the last time he and his father had any meal at all in their dining room. For the most part his dad uses it as sort of a home office, at least when he’s not trying to keep Stiles out of police business. 

Thinking of his father makes him wince, but he does his best to shake it off and at least look like a normal person while Kira introduces her parents. Her father stands up from the table to greet him, holding out a hand that Stiles grasps and shakes.

“Ken Yukimura,” he says, still smiling. “It’s a pleasure to have you, Stiles.”

“You are welcome in our home, Spark,” Kira’s mom adds, but she’s still watching him with a cool expression, like she hasn’t decided yet whether or not she means it. “Our daughter tells us you are bonded to a werewolf?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles says at the same time Kira hisses, “ _Mom._ ”

“No, it’s okay,” Stiles tells her, flashing a tight-lipped smile before he turns back to her parents. “Technically, yes, but he’s in California with his pack and I’m here, obviously, so it’s kind of complicated.”

As soon as he mentions the fact that Derek’s all the way across the country she relaxes just enough to make Stiles believe she's not about to kick him out. She doesn’t smile, but she nods and gestures to the seat across from her. “Forgive me. Werewolves and kitsune traditionally don’t mix well.”

Stiles nods, because he doesn’t know as much about kitsune as he does about werewolves, but since meeting Kira he’s read up enough to know at least that. Personally he thinks kitsune sound pretty stuck-up as a species, but he’s smart enough not to say so. “Well, you don’t have to worry about him turning up here.”

“See? Everything’s fine,” Kira said, grabbing Stiles by the arm and more or less forcing him into a chair at the table before she sits down next to him. “No surprise werewolves showing up, and Stiles gets to stay and see the city.”

“Listen, it’s really nice of you to let me stay, but I can’t crash your Christmas.”

“Oh, we don’t really celebrate,” Kira says, which isn’t really a surprise, considering the lack of decorations around the house, but it still feels weird to crash Kira’s entire break when he doesn’t know her all that well.

“You are more than welcome to stay, Stiles,” Ken says, flashing another smile before he turns back to his paper. Kira’s mom still doesn’t look like she’s particularly thrilled at the prospect, but she doesn’t say anything else about werewolves or his bond, so he figures that’s as good as it’s going to get.

They eat breakfast while Kira tells him all about the places she wants to take him, naming a few tourist spots Stiles has heard of, but also a bunch of places he hasn't. “And there’s that herb shop on the West Side, we should go there. I bet you can tell if the lady working there is for real or not.”

“If you’re going there, pick up some Gyokuro for me,” Yoshiko says. Stiles has no idea what Gyokuro is, but Kira just nods, so obviously she does. 

“Oh! And the comic shop. It’s way bigger than the one in Amherst. They have so many back issues and collectibles, wait until you see it.”

It sounds like he’d need at least a week to see everything she’s mentioned so far, but Stiles doesn’t say so. Instead he just nods and swallows the last of his coffee before he stands up to follow her.

“Oh, I forgot my jacket,” he says, then he _believes_ Derek’s leather jacket will appear, and a second later he’s holding it in his hand.

“Amazing,” Ken murmurs, and even Noshiko looks reluctantly impressed. Only Kira rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sound.

“You’re going to freeze to death in that thing,” she says.

“I’m from California,” he answers, the same way he has every other time she’s complained about his jacket. He hasn’t told her who it actually belongs to or why he keeps wearing it even though it’s nowhere near warm enough for winter in the northeast. He’s not even sure he _could_ , because he doesn’t understand it himself. He doesn’t know why he still wants to feel close to Derek, to cling to their tenuous connection when it’s clear Derek doesn’t feel the same way. At least that’s what he assumed, but after talking to his mom he’s not so sure.

“Ready to go?” Kira asks, her own, much warmer coat fastened and her dark hair covered in a cozy looking knit cap.

Stiles checks to make sure his phone is in his pocket, just in case Corbin calls demanding answers for his sudden disappearing act, then he nods. “Let’s go.”

As soon as they reach the sidewalk Kira slides her arm through his to steer him toward what he assumes is the first stop on their tour of New York. He thinks about offering to magic them to wherever they’re going, partly because she seems to think it’s pretty cool, but mostly because it really is even colder in the city than it was in Amherst. There are way too many people around, though, so he just hunches a little further into Derek’s jacket and leans into Kira for warmth.

“Where are we, exactly?”

“The Upper East Side,” she answers, like that’s supposed to mean anything to Stiles. “Mom would be happier in Queens because there’s a bigger Japanese population there, but it’s too far from Columbia where my dad teaches, so they compromised. Plus there are a lot of good Japanese restaurants and shops in the East Village, and that’s not too far by subway.”

Stiles nods as though he understands a single thing she’s saying. Derek probably would, he realizes, then he finds himself wondering where exactly Derek and Laura lived while they were in the city. He’s never asked, not that Derek’s ever invited much curiosity about his life after the fire. And Stiles doesn’t blame him, but now that he finds himself walking the same sidewalks Derek might have walked, he can’t help wondering.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Kira asks, nudging him, and he blinks and realizes they’ve walked over a block without him noticing.

“Nowhere,” he says, then he sighs and adds, “Derek lived here with his sister for a few years. I was just wondering where, that’s all.”

She’s heard him talk about Derek enough to know it’s kind of a touchy subject. It shouldn’t be, considering their connection, but he feels so off balance all the time and he knows it’s because the bond’s not settled.

“You’ve never asked?”

“He’s not big on sharing,” Stiles says with a shrug, because it’s true. Chances are good if he’d asked about Derek’s time in New York he would have gotten shoved into the nearest hard surface for his trouble. “I mean, I get it, his sister brought him here and now she’s dead.”

“Well,” Kira says, smiling in a way that tells him she’s trying to distract him from falling into another bout of melancholy, “when you see him again you can tell him all about your trip.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He’s quiet for a few minutes, glancing around at the neighborhood as they walk past neat rows of expensive looking houses. It’s kind of surreal that he’s in New York City, of all places, even though he knows that theoretically he could go anywhere in the world with just a thought. “I talked to my mom last night.”

For a second Kira’s only response is a tightening of the grip she’s got on his arm. He knows she doesn’t really get it, and he’s glad, because no one should have to know what it feels like to lose a parent. She’s always been sympathetic without pitying him, though, and he appreciates it more than she probably realizes.

“What’d she say?” she finally asks, voice neutral, like she doesn’t want to upset him by sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

“She wants me to bring a message to my dad for her.”

“A message?”

“Yeah, it’s this thing the dead can do, I guess. Like, when I spoke to Derek’s mom this one time, she gave me messages to give to him and his sister and uncle. I can’t see them or anything, it’s just kind of a feeling I get while they’re sitting in my brain or whatever. I still have Derek’s up there too. He wouldn’t take it when I tried to deliver it the first time, but my mom says he’s ready now.”

“Whoa,” Kira says, which is probably the best description of his weird Spirit Walker powers anyone could come up with, so Stiles just laughs.

She grins and pulls him into a little shop on the corner of the street that looks more like a tiny convenience store than anything else, but there’s a rack of cheap gloves near the register, and she pulls a black pair off and marches over to the cashier before Stiles can stop her. He tries to get her to let him pay, but she just rolls her eyes and says, “You’ve seen my parents’ house, Stiles. Don't worry about it.”

After that he stops arguing and pulls the gloves on before following her back out to the sidewalk. He has to admit they make a big difference, so he doesn’t complain when she loops her arm through his again and drags him further down the block to a coffee shop and insists on paying there, too. 

“You’re not paying for me all day,” he says, but the only answer he gets is another eye roll, so he figures they’ll be arguing about it for a while.

Once they’ve got hot coffee to warm them even further Kira tugs him across the street and slips through an entrance into what Stiles realizes abruptly is Central Park. It’s the dead of winter so the trees are bare, but he’s lived most of his life right on top of the Preserve, so he can tell that in the summer this section of the park is green and lush and nothing like any city park he’s ever pictured. It makes him wonder if Derek and Laura came and ran here on the full moon, or if they drove further upstate where they were less likely to run into unsuspecting humans.

That’s probably why they hung onto the Camaro even though they were living in a city where having a car is more of an inconvenience than an asset, he realizes. He’s tempted to text Derek and ask, but after the way they left things the night before, he knows he can’t.

“It’s faster to cut through the park if we want to get my mom her tea,” Kira says.

“Tea?” Stiles asks, frowning while he tries to recall when Kira’s mother had mentioned tea.

“The Gyokuro she asked for,” Kira explains, smiling in a way that he knows from experience means she’s kind of laughing at him. “It’s a kind of Japanese tea. They carry it at the herb shop I want to go to. I want to see if you can tell whether or not the lady who runs the place is really magic. I’ve always wondered, but of course I didn’t even know magic was real until like a year ago.”

“Speaking of,” he says, and suddenly the air around them is warm enough to make them stop shivering, at least.

“Oh, God, why did it take you so long to do that?” Kira asks, squeezing his arm.

The truth is that he’s been sort of scared to try and accidentally burn down a tree or a building or even a person because he can’t control his magic. He doesn’t want to admit that, though, so instead he just shrugs and says, “Just thought of it.”

The look she gives him tells him she doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t call him on the lie. Instead she says, “So...those messages. Do you have to deliver them in person?”

Stiles nods, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach at the reminder. “Yeah, it’s like a touch thing? That’s the only way I know how to do it, anyway.”

She nods like it makes sense, and in a weird way he guesses it does. It’s not like he could send his dad a message from his dead wife long-distance, not without preparing him for what was about to happen. If he did his dad would probably just write it off as a vivid dream, and then his mom would probably make him do it all over again.

Derek knows about the message from his mom, so it would be less jarring to send it to him without actually showing up. But there’s a tiny, pathetic part of him he tries to ignore that really wants to see Derek again, even if he has to use his mother’s message as an excuse. 

“You can come with, if you want,” he says before he even realizes he’s thinking it. The sound of his own voice takes him by surprise, but he knows Kira’s curious about werewolves, and maybe if she’s there he can put off any awkward conversations. And it’s probably lame to use his only friend as a buffer against the pack, but judging by the way her eyes light up, she doesn’t really mind.

“Like, you could teleport us? At the same time?”

Stiles nods, grinning at her expression in spite of the nerves making his stomach squirm. “Yeah, I’ve done it before, with Derek’s uncle.”

“So cool,” Kira says in the same awed voice her father had used this morning. Stiles stops himself from rolling his eyes only because it _is_ kind of cool, and it’s nice that someone besides him thinks so. “When are we going?”

“I don’t know. After Christmas, I guess? I don’t want to show up at my dad’s house on Christmas day, not while we’re not even talking, really.”

“Understandable,” Kira says, because she truly is a great friend. “Hey, do you think we could go to the beach while we’re out there? I’ve never seen the Pacific Ocean.”

“I thought your mom was Japanese.”

Kira doesn’t bother refraining from rolling her eyes, hitting him in the shoulder for good measure. “I was born in New York, dork. I’ve never been to Japan.”

He smiles when she laughs at him, letting her steer him past a row of run-down shops until they stop in front of a storefront with smudged glass and what Stiles guesses is Japanese letters in peeling paint.

“We can’t tell my mom, though,” Kira says, her hand on the door to stop him from going inside. “About going to California, I mean. We’ll just tell her we’re going to the Statue of Liberty or something, that will give us plenty of time. But if she finds out I’m going to meet a werewolf pack she’ll flip out and ground me until I’m thirty.”

“Sure, no problem,” he says. He’s about to follow her into the shop when his phone rings, and he pulls it out and swallows hard when he sees the caller ID. For a second he considers just turning it off and ignoring it for the rest of the day, but he has a feeling that will only make it worse when he finally does answer. 

“Go on, I’ll be in in a minute,” he tells Kira as he hits ‘accept’. She frowns at him, but she slips inside the shop anyway and lets the door close behind her as he takes a deep breath and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”


	40. Chapter 40

“Stiles,” his dad says, and the relief in his voice is so palpable that Stiles almost believes it for a second. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, glancing down the sidewalk and watching strangers pass like he’s not even there. It’s kind of nice, being invisible, and he has to check his magic to make sure he didn’t accidentally cast a spell. 

“Last night, Derek said you had some kind of panic attack.”

“It was nothing, I’m fine,” he says, swallowing down the disappointment that his father still doesn’t get it. “Look, is that all you wanted? Because my friend is waiting for me.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, and he can picture his dad running a hand over his face. For some reason the image sets his teeth on edge, and he blows out his own breath and glances over his shoulder toward the herb shop. 

“No, kid, that’s not all. I never wanted you to leave, okay? That was never what this was about.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, because this is the last conversation he wants to have right now. He’d just as soon never have it at all, but then again, he learned from his dad how to ignore problems until they go away, so technically it’s a family tradition. 

“Yeah? So what was it about?” he asks anyway, bitterness creeping into his voice.

It gets him another sigh, and he rolls his eyes and tugs Derek’s jacket a little closer around him.

“Look, I get that I didn’t handle things well, after your mom. I didn’t handle this whole magic thing all that well either, I see that now.”

Stiles scoffs, because that’s the understatement of the century. He still doesn’t want to talk about it, though, so he shoves his anger down and ignores the way his magic ripples under his skin.

“I can’t talk about this right now, Dad.”

“Stiles…”

“I’ll be back in a few days, we can talk then.”

“You’re coming home?” his dad says, and now he sounds so hopeful Stiles wants to cry. “Can you make it for Christmas?”

“No,” he says almost before his dad finishes his sentence. He wants to ask why his father cares, seeing as they haven’t had much in the way of Christmas traditions since his mom died, but he doesn’t bother. “It’ll be after Christmas. I need to see Derek too. I have something to give you both.”

“Okay,” his dad says, still hopeful. “Okay, that’s...that’s good. So I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Stiles answers, swallowing against the lump in his throat, because his dad still hasn’t said he’s sorry. “See you.”

He hangs up before his dad can answer and shoves his phone back in his pocket. His hands are shaking and he can feel his magic itching to break free, to lash out and destroy everything around him. He pulls the shop door open with a little too much force for a regular human guy, wearing a scowl that could rival Derek’s on his best day. 

Once he steps inside he takes a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. The entire shop looks old, cramped with shelves down three walls all lined with jars of what he assumes are different kinds of herbs. Everything looks vaguely dusty, as though it’s all been here for so long time seems to have forgotten the place. Kira’s standing at the counter with a tiny, shriveled-looking woman with dark, wrinkled skin, both of them watching as he steps further into the store.

“Everything okay?” Kira asks, but she’s watching him with wide eyes, like maybe she already knows the answer.

Around him some of the jars of herbs start to rattle, making Kira bite her lip and glance over at the shop keeper. The woman’s watching Stiles, her expression calm but her fingers twitch where they’re resting on the counter, like she thinks maybe she can reach out and catch her jars before they fall.

Which they’re going to do, Stiles realizes abruptly, focusing his magic to settle the jars before he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Just my dad.”

Kira gives him a sympathetic look, but the old woman’s expression is much more calculating. “You are welcome here, Spark. But I would prefer if you did not use your magic in my store.”

“Sorry,” he says at the same moment Kira asks, “How did you know he’s a Spark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, just keeps watching Stiles like she’s waiting for him to lose control again, which is probably fair. He reaches out with his magic until he finds the signature for what little magic she possesses. It feels a lot like Deaton’s, and he relaxes slightly. “You’re a druid.”

The woman inclines her head in that noncommittal way all druids seem to have. “In a manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?” Kira snaps, her eyes doing that glowy kitsune thing they do when she gets worked up, because she doesn’t have as much experience dealing with enigmatic non-answers as Stiles does.

“It means, little kitsune,” the druid says with a smile at Kira’s suspicious frown, “that I was trained by druids. I was once an emissary myself, but when I left that life most of my power became dormant. I still have enough magic to recognize a Spark when I see one, however. Especially given the rumors that have been circulating these last few months. The Alpha Pack was a scourge to our entire community.”

This time when she inclines her head it’s with a small smile, and Stiles flushes at the show of respect. He’s still not convinced he deserves it, but it’s true that Deucalion and his pack of murderers aren’t doing any damage these days, so instead of arguing he just nods back at her. “They got what they deserved.”

Her smile turns dark for a second, and it’s easy to see in that moment that she’s spent a lot of time around werewolves. Then she blinks and her expression turns thoughtful for a moment before she gives him a decisive nod. “I have something that will help you.”

Before he can ask what she means she turns away, reaching for a jar on one of the shelves behind her. It seems too high for her to reach without help, but before Stiles can offer the jar seems to float gently toward her, landing in her hands. They watch her measure out some of the herbs into a clear bag, then she ties it closed and turns back to them.

“As I mentioned,” she says in answer to the unspoken question that must be written all over their faces, “ _most_ of my powers are dormant now.”

Kira’s still looking at her like she’s expecting the woman to sprout fangs any second, but Stiles can feel how weak her magic is, and he can tell she’s not masking her power, so he just nods and picks up the bag she presses on him. “What is it?”

“It is a tea that can help you with your control,” she answers, glancing toward the jars he’d been rattling when he raises an eyebrow at her. “It will not fix the problem, but it will help you to stay in control a little longer. Brew some three times a week and drink it plain. Do not add sweetener or you will destroy the healing properties. When you need more, come back to me.”

“How much?” Kira asks, and Stiles assumes she’s talking about the price, but the old woman slides a little plastic scoop across the counter toward him.

“One scoop is enough,” she answers. “Brew for ten minutes, no less.”

Stiles has never made a cup of tea in his life, but he nods anyway. “What do I owe you?”

“Call it a thank you gift, Spark,” she says, her smile going dark again. “My pack had dealings with Deucalion years ago. This is but a small tribute to the service you’ve provided.”

It feels a little weird to accept a gift for murdering two people and stripping the Alpha powers from two more, but Stiles understands the sentiment. He gets that the demise of the Alpha Pack is a big deal, that by doing away with them he’s made himself allies and probably a few enemies as well. It’s the reason Derek’s still fielding courtship offers, or at least part of it. 

“Thanks,” is all he says as he tucks the tea into his pocket along with the little measuring scoop. He waits while Kira pays for her mom’s tea, then he waves to the old woman and follows Kira back out to the sidewalk. 

“So I guess she’s the real deal,” Kira says once they’re halfway down the block. 

Stiles grins and nods. “Yeah, I mean she doesn’t have much magic, but she definitely knows her stuff.”

“So…” Kira trails off, casting him a nervous glance. “Your dad?”

Stiles tenses, but his magic doesn’t go haywire again, so he calls it a victory. “I think he was trying to apologize, but ‘sorry’ isn’t exactly in his vocabulary, you know?”

“You’ve met my mom, right?”

He huffs a laugh when she grins at him. “Yeah, I guess you do know. Anyway, I told him I’d talk to him in a few days.”

“So we’re still going to California?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” Stiles says, because he’s pretty sure if he tries to avoid it his Mom will start haunting him or something. “So yeah, if you still want to come, I’m still going.”

Kira slides her arm through his to steer him toward the subway entrance. “Hey, if you’re in, I’m in. Got it?”

“Got it,” Stiles says, and he doesn’t say how relieved he is to hear it, but he can tell by the way she squeezes his arm that she knows anyway.

* * *

“Here’s one from an actual princess. Or so she says,” Erica sneers, waving the letter in the air over her shoulder. 

Derek scowls and strides across the room to snatch it out of her hand. “I told you to stop reading these.”

“What’s the harm? You’re going to refuse them all anyway, right?” Isaac asks from where he’s sprawled on one of Derek’s sofas. 

“I told you, there are rules. We have to answer every one of them. If we misplace even one it could bring war down on us.”

Erica rolls her eyes and snatches another letter out of the pile on the coffee table. “We’re not five, Derek. We’re not going to lose any of them.”

“Who’s been answering them, anyway?” Isaac asks, glancing up from the letter he’s perusing.

“Peter, mostly,” Derek admits with a sigh. He gives up on trying to get them to leave the letters alone and instead sinks down on the couch next to Erica. “He knows the most about this kind of etiquette.”

“You said you were going to let us help,” Erica reminds him, tossing the letter she’d been reading on what Derek assumes is the discard pile before she reaches for another. “I mean, there are so many, it must be taking forever. Couldn’t he give us some kind of form letter and we could all get together and answer all these at once?"

It’s true that certain letters -- like the one from the kelpie princess, for example -- require a more experienced hand than normal, but most of them are pretty generic. Add to that the fact that Satomi’s been urging Derek to involve his betas in more day-to-day pack business, and maybe Erica has a point.

“Maybe. I’ll talk to Peter,” Derek says. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“Boyd had to work,” Erica says, like that should make her presence a given, and it more or less does. “And Scott’s still pouting and shutting everyone out, so Isaac came over here to sulk.”

Isaac scowls, but he doesn’t deny the truth of Erica’s explanation. Derek’s not surprised to hear that Scott is off somewhere licking his wounds. He knows Scott blames himself at least in part for Stiles’ disappearing act, but as far as Derek knows Scott hasn’t actually tried to reach out to him since the first week Stiles left. Just like the Sheriff, he’s been hanging around feeling sorry for himself and expecting Stiles to make everything better.

“Have you talked to him yet?” Erica asks, her voice quieter than it was a minute ago, and when Derek shakes his head she lets out a sigh.

“I left him a few messages last night,” he confesses. “I thought I’d wait a while to see if he calls me back on his own, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to.”

He checks his phone again, just to be sure, but there are no missed calls or texts waiting. An idea strikes him, and he knows it could blow up in his face, but he decides to take the risk anyway. Derek opens his text history with Stiles and stares at the blank box for a second before he starts typing.

_There’s a courtship offer from a kelpie princess. Any interest in being royalty or should we refuse?_

He barely hits ‘send’ before Erica’s leaning over him, trying and failing to see what he’s doing. “Who are you texting? Is that Stiles?”

Derek holds his phone up out of her reach until she gives up with a huff and leans back to cross her arms over her chest. “I thought he deserved to know that he has royalty interested in him.”

“You idiot,” Erica hisses, eyes wide as she scrambles for her own phone. “You’re not supposed to tell him about the _good_ offers.”

Derek rolls his eyes at her, but the truth is he knows it’s a gamble. It’s just that Derek doesn’t want to give Stiles any more reasons to think he’s keeping anything from him, not after everything he learned about Stiles and the Sheriff last night.

“I don’t get it,” Isaac says, sitting up and tossing the letter he’d been reading in the pile with the others.

“Get what?” Derek asks, regretting humoring Isaac the second the words are out of his mouth.

“Why _did_ you act like you hated him for so long?”

“Isaac,” Erica snaps, looking up from her phone to flash her eyes at him in warning. “You know why.”

Isaac rolls his eyes, but he casts an apprehensive glance at Derek all the same, and Derek swallows a sigh. “Yeah, yeah, he had a shitty past, but so have a lot of us. Stiles was around before the rest of us, though. You could have bitten him and then he wouldn’t have had any choice but to stick around. Instead you acted like you didn’t even want him in the pack.”

He has no idea how much they actually know about his past. He doesn’t know if Isaac’s just talking about the fire, or if Cora or even Peter filled the rest of them in on the finer points of Derek’s disastrous love life. He doesn’t really want to know, either, but before he has to tell Isaac and Erica both to mind their own business, his phone beeps with an incoming text.

_Erica says you don’t really know if the kelpie’s a princess_

Derek smiles in spite of himself, because of course that’s the detail Stiles would get hung up on.

_I can’t prove it, but kelpies aren’t known to lie._

He glances over at Erica while he waits for an answer, shaking his head at her smug expression. “She probably is a princess, you know.”

Erica shrugs and reaches for another letter. “You can’t know that for sure.”

He shakes his head again and turns back to his phone as it beeps a second time. _think i’ll pass anyway the kingdom’s prob a little too damp for me_

Before Derek can answer another text comes through, and he frowns when he reads it. _you ever been to an herb shop near the museum of nat history? strange asian lady druid runs it?_

A foot collides with his thigh, but Derek doesn’t look up as he types his response, even when Erica growls his name.

_What are you doing in New York?_

“Derek. What’s he saying?” she hisses, but he just shakes his head and reads Stiles’ reply.

_Hanging out w Kira for a couple days. Told my dad we’d stop by after Christmas._

_You’re coming home?_ Derek types, his fingers shaking a little at the prospect. He’s nowhere near ready for Stiles to come back; there’s still tons to do to get the house built and the pack pulled together, but right now none of that matters.

 _Not to stay,_ Stiles says, then, _tell you when I get there_

 _Okay,_ Derek answers. _Now what’s this about a druid?_

_Later. Meeting some of Kira’s h.s. friends._

After that there’s nothing, but Derek can’t help the hope that’s spreading through his chest. Even if he’s not staying, the fact that he’s coming home at all means there’s still a chance he’ll come back for good one day. 

“Well?” Erica demands, impatient, like maybe it’s not the first time she’s asked. 

“He’s coming back,” Derek says, glancing up to find them both watching him.

“What? When?” Erica demands, at the same time Isaac says, “For good?”

Derek shakes his head and reads over Stiles’ texts again. “Just a visit for now. I don’t know when exactly; he said a few days.”

“A few _days_?” Erica practically shrieks, leaping off the couch and taking off to do what, Derek’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. Probably find Cora and rope her into helping to plan a surprise party that Stiles will hate, but he’s not even going to try to stop her. He’s not going to stop any of them from showing Stiles how much they want him to come home, because even if Stiles refuses to hear it, at least he’ll know they’re trying.


	41. Chapter 41

Kira’s friends meet them at the comic book shop. Stiles gets the feeling that wasn’t the original plan, but he’s grateful they’re willing to roll with the change. Wandering around a comic book shop gives them a chance to size him up without actually having to talk to him much, anyway, and it means Stiles doesn’t have to make awkward conversation or answer too many questions right away.

He knows they’re watching him, feels their eyes on him as he browses the bins of back issues, and he uses his magic to eavesdrop on their conversation when they corner Kira on the opposite side of the store. 

“He’s cute, for a high school kid,” Anna, the one with shoulder-length red hair and hipster glasses says, and Stiles rolls his eyes, because seriously, he’s only a year younger than her. 

“I can’t believe you brought your boyfriend home. Didn’t your mom flip?” the other one, Robin, says. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kira answers, and Stiles doesn’t have to look to know she’s rolling her eyes. “He _has_ a boyfriend. Sort of.”

“Oh,” Anna says, like Stiles is suddenly more interesting with a boyfriend. 

Of course, if they knew what Kira means by ‘sort of’, they’d probably go right back to thinking he was just some loser. If _Derek_ heard anybody call Stiles his boyfriend he’d probably laugh himself hoarse, or maybe just gut whoever said it with his claws and be done with it. Sure, he’s trying to be friendlier, but Stiles is pretty sure that’s just because he feels guilty. That and he wants the power boost having a Spark in his pack will give him, and if it means he’s stuck being bonded to Stiles for the rest of his life, well, he’s always been a martyr.

The thought makes Stiles’ stomach turn, and he’s so busy trying to shake the sinking feeling that he doesn’t realize someone’s standing next to him until he feels a breath on his cheek.

“Well met, Spirit Walker.”

Stiles startles and jerks backwards, barely avoiding headbutting the person behind him and probably breaking his nose. It takes him a second to blink out of his shock enough to realize he recognizes the guy. He’s dressed in human clothes, but even without the forest green robes and the crown of autumn leaves, he’s got the pointed features and the unearthly beauty of the Fae about him.

“Cailean?” Stiles says, frowning as he remembers being hit on by this very Fae just a couple months ago. “Why...what are you doing in New York?”

“You left us so soon, Spark. I had hoped to give you a proper farewell.”

Something about the way he says it sends a shiver of alarm down Stiles’ spine. This is the first Fae who Stiles took food and drink from, and while Morgana promised there would be no Fae tricks, it’s possible Cailean didn’t get the memo. He knows enough about the Fae to be a little nervous, whether he has reason to be or not.

They can’t lie, but they’re masters at twisting the truth to suit their needs. It’s possible Morgana promised that she wouldn’t play any tricks on him, but she wasn’t including the rest of the Court in that even though he’d assumed she did. It’s also possible the promise only covered his time in the Fae realm, and now that he’s back in the mortal world, all bets are off. 

“I took my leave of the Queen,” Stiles says, keeping it formal, just in case. 

The smile he gets in response is a little too sharp to be friendly, but Stiles is used to the Fae by now, so he doesn’t react. “Indeed, your departure was keenly felt. I had hoped to find you still on the land that claims you, but the trees told me of your journey. I did not expect to find you in the company of a fox.”

“You still haven’t said why you’re here,” Stiles says, glancing across the store toward Kira and her friends. He doesn’t want them anywhere near the Fae, especially if Cailean’s looking to stir up trouble, but he’s not sure how to get him away from them without being obvious. 

Cailean’s glance slides in Kira’s direction as well, then he smirks and turns back to Stiles. “I am here to help you with your werewolf problem.”

“Help me…” Stiles glances over at Kira again, then his eyes narrow and he nods toward the door. “We’re not talking about this in here.”

Cailean gives him a bow with a little too much flourish, smirking as he leads the way out to the sidewalk and toward the alley that runs along one side of the building. He casts his magic out to make sure there’s no one lurking nearby to overhear them, and when he’s sure they’re alone he turns back to Cailean.

“What about my ‘werewolf problem’?”

“Why, that pesky bond of yours, of course,” Cailean answers with another sharp grin. “You’ve become the talk of the supernatural world, young Mieczyslaw. Creatures all over the realms talk of nothing but how to steal you away from that pack of yours.”

He pauses long enough to give Stiles a secret smile. “Of course, there’s also been talk about the fact that you’ve left your pack and your territory. So the question remains, do you still want to be bonded?”

For a few seconds Stiles just looks at him, trying to work out if this is the Fae trick he’s been expecting. But Cailean’s just looking at him like he’s actually expecting an answer, so Stiles rolls his eyes and doesn’t sigh. “I don’t exactly have a choice.”

“What if I told you that you do?”

This time Stiles narrows his eyes, mind racing as he tries to figure out what Cailean’s angle is. “I have to be bonded, dude. You know that.”

“Your magic requires an anchor, yes. But why waste it on a werewolf pack when you could free yourself of that bond and choose a more suitable consort?”

“I’m not killing Derek,” Stiles answers, because as far as he knows that’s the only way out of the bond without both of them actively willing it away, and he knows himself well enough to know that won’t work. 

For a second Cailean looks almost pitying, but then he smiles and he’s right back to cunning. “I understand your fondness for your wolf. The Unseelie have always favored the company of werewolves, after all.”

“But you think it’s a waste to be bonded to one.”

Cailean gives him a helpless shrug and leans a little closer. “Why waste your talents on the mortal world? This realm is amusing, certainly, but it’s quite...limiting. If you were to bond with a Fae and shed your mortality, you could also shed your bond, as well as your limitations.”

Stiles frowns at that, turning the information over in his head. “So you’re saying that Derek doesn’t have to die for the bond to break.”

“So clever for a mortal. You were meant for more than this world, Spark.”

“What you’re saying is that the bond breaks if I die, too.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Cailean answers, but he sounds a little put out now, like maybe he wasn’t expecting Stiles to work that part out. “Surely immortality would appeal to someone like yourself, however? There is much to learn, centuries worth of knowledge to be had. The Fae could give you that.”

“And you’re offering out of the kindness of your heart, right?”

The smile he gets this time is delighted, making Cailean’s eyes dance with mischief. “I have no use for your magic, Spirit Walker. But I have never hidden my admiration.”

His gaze wanders down Stiles’ frame as he says it, making him blush to the roots of his hair. It’s true that he’s never been shy about what he wants from Stiles, but the fact that he wants it enough to offer immortality and a way out of his bond is a surprise. It’s flattering, sure, but that doesn’t mean Stiles is ready to give up on going home just yet, even though technically he’s the one who left. 

“Look, I can’t really talk about this now. I’ve already ditched my friends for too long, and they don’t really know about all this bond stuff.”

“Of course,” Cailean says, like it’s totally reasonable to put a pin in a conversation about untying himself from Derek after a decade of being tethered to him. He gives another little bow, then he smiles almost fondly. “We shall meet again, Spirit Walker.”

Before Stiles can answer he’s gone, disappearing from one blink to the next and leaving Stiles staring at a dirty brick wall and wondering what exactly just happened. 

He walks back into the comic book shop to find Kira watching the door, her expression showing her relief when Stiles walks in alone. He makes a beeline for her, forcing a more or less believable smile when her friends look over. 

“Everything okay?” Kira asks at the same time Anna says, “So was that your boyfriend?”

“No,” Stiles answers, even though it’s none of her business. “That’s a guy I met a few months ago, while I was traveling,” he adds, emphasizing the last word so Kira will realize what Cailean is and how dangerous he could be. 

He watches her eyes go wide for a second before she turns back to her friends. “Hey, are you guys hungry? We should totally go to Chinatown and get some lunch.”

He gets what she’s doing, trying to move them away from the threat any way she can, so he doesn’t point out that any Fae would be able to follow them wherever they went. Instead he follows her out of the shop, bringing up the rear and casting his magic out around them as they walk, just in case. He doesn’t think Cailean will show up again so soon, but he’s not taking any chances at letting Kira or her friends get caught in the crossfire.

Kira's talking about some place that serves great dim sum, but Stiles just nods without really listening. He just needs to get through a couple more hours with Kira's friends, and as soon as they're alone again he'll be able to call Corbin and start working on what to do about the fact that one of the Fae seems to be trying to court him after all.

* * *

“This all looks amazing,” Derek says, smiling at the woman across the table near the back of the coffee shop closest to the loft. He was surprised when the architect for the house rebuild agreed to drive up and meet him two days before Christmas, but she’d claimed she was going to be in the area anyway, and he wasn’t about to argue.

Satomi was the one who put Derek in touch with her, claiming she was knowledgeable about the supernatural and trustworthy enough to help with any security features he wanted to put in. Derek didn’t ask for details on her involvement with the supernatural, putting his trust in Satomi even though it went against most of his instincts. It’s been so long since he allowed himself to trust anyone that it’s hard to take that step, but he knows how much damage he’s done by keeping everyone in his life at arm’s length since the fire, so he called the architect anyway. 

They’d met out at the Hale property and he’d shown her the lay of the land, both where the old house stood and where he, Cora and Peter decided to locate the new one. His plan is to put in a garden where the old house stood, both as a memorial to his old pack and to break up the view of the trees surrounding the property.

He wants to make the garden visible both from the living room and the master bedroom. He’s been trying not to think about who he might share that bedroom with eventually, but it’s hard not to wonder what Stiles will think once the house is done. Right now all he’s got is a few sketches the architect did while he was getting them both coffee, though, so Derek pushes the thought to the back of his mind and focuses on what she’s saying.

“You have a couple of different options,” she says as she pushes the sketches across the table toward him. "We could do a full wrap-around porch, sort of a farmhouse look, or we could stick with the lines of the original house and then do a big deck out back for entertaining. Then there’s the option of a patio with a screen porch in the back of the house.”

Derek shakes his head and pushes the sketch with the screen porch back towards her. “Screens and a pack usually don’t mix, especially on full moons.”

She grins and nods, taking the sketch and sliding it into her briefcase. “Guess I should have thought of that. My father was a druid, but he gave up his emissary position when he married my mom, so I didn’t get the full experience, just stories he told as we were growing up.”

Derek nods absently and looks back down at the sketches in front of him. There’s a part of him that likes the idea of keeping the lines of the original house, though the interior is going to be a lot more open plan than it was when he was growing up. His mother was a big believer in formal living spaces, but that doesn’t really feel right for his new pack. A big table in the kitchen makes more sense for them than a formal dining room, and a comfortable living room with lots of seating will work better for a teenage pack than a fancy sitting room that only gets used when other packs come to visit.

The second and third floor layouts are different too, adjusted to add more bathrooms so there’s no fighting when and if the rest of the pack moves in. Half the third floor is taken up with a large master bedroom and private office space, and they’ve decided to eliminate the fireplace altogether. Maybe someday he’ll reach a place where he can stand backyard bonfires, but he has a feeling Peter never will, and neither of them will ever feel comfortable with a fire burning in the living room again.

“Let’s stick with the original design for the front,” he finally says, pushing the drawing toward her. “We’ll probably get more use out of a deck out back than we would a wraparound porch.”

She nods and smiles, then she tucks the drawing he’s chosen carefully into the front of the binder she’s been taking notes in since they met up at the construction site. “Great. I’ll get some plans drawn up on the computer and email them to you after the holidays, then we can start talking about a schedule for getting started.”

He stands up when she does, holding out his hand to shake hers. “Thanks again for driving up on short notice.”

“It was a pleasure, Mr. Hale. I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ll be in touch,” she says, flashing one more smile before she turns and walks out of the coffee shop.

When she’s gone Derek sits down again, reaching for his half-full coffee and taking another sip. He does his best not to picture a family living in the new house, cubs with dark hair and amber eyes, or maybe hazel eyes and turned-up noses running around the yard and making way too much noise on the stairs. He doesn’t picture Stiles sleeping next to him in the big master bedroom, skin glowing almost silver in the moonlight streaming through the skylight Derek plans to have put in.

He’s not picturing a future he can’t guarantee, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting it. It’s the first time he’s really let himself want something purely for himself, and maybe if he’d acknowledged what he wanted a little earlier Stiles wouldn’t be on the other side of the country right now. In New York, like that makes any sense, but Derek can’t help smiling at the idea of Stiles visiting some of the same places Derek frequented back when he lived there.

Before he can start thinking about taking Stiles on a trip to New York -- or L.A. or Tahiti or anywhere away from the pack, really -- a shadow falls over his table, and he looks up to find Lydia raising a single judgmental eyebrow at him.

“She’s pretty,” Lydia says, glancing pointedly at the chair across from Derek. “And I have to say it’s nice to see you with someone a little more age appropriate, but aren’t you supposed to be courting Stiles?”

Derek doesn’t react to the dig about his age. There was a time when he felt guilty enough about it to ignore any kind of feelings that came up when Stiles was in the room, but between the bond and the whole mess with Stiles’ father, he’s moved beyond that. At this point he just wants Stiles to know he has at least one person in his corner that he can count on, and Derek’s determined to be that person from now on.

“Clara is the architect who’s going to design the new house,” he says, instead of telling her to mind her own business. “We were going over initial design ideas. And I'm not courting Stiles. We're already bonded.”

A noncommittal hum is the only answer he gets, as though Lydia’s not sure if she believes him. More likely is that she doesn’t _want_ to believe him, because if she does then she can’t run to Stiles and stir up more trouble between him and Derek. He wonders if Stiles would even believe her at this point, if he’d even bother to read any text she sent him or pick up if she called. He’s been ignoring Scott, Derek knows that for sure, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Stiles decided to ignore Lydia too.

They’ve all got plenty of work to do to get Stiles to trust them again, and in Lydia’s case Derek’s guessing she’s not even willing to try.

“Did you want something?” he asks, raising his own eyebrows in response to her pursed lips.

“Allison says Stiles is coming back.”

Derek manages not to roll his eyes at the fact that Allison’s still feeding Lydia information, but it’s a near thing. Technically it’s not pack business, and it’s not like it’s a secret, but Derek doesn’t really get why Lydia cares.

“He’s going to visit in a few days. He’s not staying.”

“I need to talk to him. I need those websites he uses for research and he hasn’t answered my messages.”

He swallows the satisfied smirk that wants to break free when he hears that Stiles has been ignoring Lydia on purpose. And he knows now that Stiles was never really interested in her, not the way everyone believed, but there’s still a small, petty part of him that’s glad Stiles isn’t falling over himself to impress her anymore.

“That won’t be necessary,” Derek says, standing up and picking up his coffee cup so he can toss it on his way out. “The pack won’t be needing your help with research anymore.”

“You just said Stiles isn’t coming back to stay,” Lydia says, her heels clicking as she follows him out of the cafe, and Derek smirks to himself at the fact that she’s actually chasing after him.

“Not yet. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t trust you, not with pack business.” He stops once they’re on the sidewalk and turns to face her, keeping his voice down so no one will overhear if they happen to pass by. “You’re supernatural so we won’t hang you out to dry. If you run into any trouble you can always call on us, but you’ve made it clear you don’t consider yourself pack, and you’re not loyal to any of us, except maybe Allison.”

“So who are you going to get to do your research? Peter?” she asks, spitting out the name as though just uttering it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Derek shrugs and reaches into his pocket for his keys. “Peter may be an asshole, but I trust him to keep my pack safe.”

 _Unlike you,_ he doesn’t add, but he can tell by her expression that she gets the message anyway. He takes a moment to enjoy her stunned expression before he turns and walks away, heading back to his car where he parked it across the street. And the thing is, if she ever changes her mind and comes to him to pledge real loyalty to the pack, he probably won’t turn her away, at least not without hearing her out. 

But right now his priority is getting Stiles back and making sure that he doesn’t have a single reason to run again, and if cutting Lydia out of the pack is what it takes, he won’t even hesitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so instead of hitting 'preview', I hit 'post without preview' and had to go back and fix typos after the fact instead of in preview mode like I normally do. Considering I wrote part of this on my phone while at a Renaissance Fair, it was kind of a mess. Sorry if you had to suffer through that! It should all be fixed now.


	42. Chapter 42

As soon as they get back to Kira’s house, Stiles excuses himself to the guest room and dials Corbin’s number. His leg bounces up and down as he sits on the edge of the bed and waits for the line to connect, halfway tempted to hang up before Corbin answers. They haven’t spoken since Stiles pulled his disappearing act, and there’s a part of him that worries Corbin will be mad.

Instead he chews on the edge of his thumbnail and tries to steady his breathing, and when he hears Corbin’s voice on the other end of the line he lets out a shaky breath. “Stiles?”

“Hey. Sorry for bailing on you,” Stiles says, eyes closing as he waits for the anger or disappointment or maybe just for Corbin to tell him he should go back to California and stay there.

“You have no reason to be sorry,” Corbin says instead, and the genuine concern in his voice makes something in Stiles’ chest tighten. “I heard about what happened with the coven. Crone Davies called to express her deepest regrets. And then she spent twenty minutes raging about her, and I quote, ‘useless grandson’.”

“So she’s not mad at me?” Stiles asks, frowning, because he thought Corbin might understand, but the coven doesn’t even know him.

“Not at all. She was disappointed, of course, to find out that practically nothing Jeremiah told her about your relationship was true, but all her anger is directed at him for overstating your friendship and your interest in the coven. I believe he’d hoped to dazzle you and cement himself as one of the major powers along the eastern seaboard. 

“With you at his side that would have been a given, of course, but I’m afraid he relied too much on your relative inexperience with magic and thought you’d jump at the chance to bond with him. Now Crone Davies sees that he’s not nearly mature enough to take over running the coven, and instead of retiring to Florida she’s facing at least several more snowy winters. To say she’s not happy would be an understatement.”

Stiles snorts a laugh in spite of himself, imagining the lectures Jeremiah’s had to sit through since Stiles took his voice and bailed on him. He’d given it back the next day, but he has a feeling it didn’t make much of a difference when it came to his grandmother’s fury.

“Yeah, well, sorry if I made things weird for you.”

“No, Stiles, I’m sorry that someone you trusted on my say-so behaved so badly. That shouldn’t have happened,” Corbin answers. “Though I’m glad you felt you could trust Kira enough to spend some time with her. Her parents haven’t given you any trouble?”

“No, they’ve been great,” Stiles says, because Kira’s mom isn’t exactly thrilled about his visit, but they’re letting him stay, so he’s not complaining. “I’m going to hang out here for a couple more days, then I have to go back to California and take care of something, but I’ll be back after that and ready to get to work.”

“No rush,” Corbin says, like he really means it. “Take whatever time you need.”

Stiles nods even though Corbin can’t see him and braces himself for the real reason he called. “So listen, something happened today. It’s not a huge deal, at least I don’t think so, but one of the Fae from the Autumn Court showed up in the city. He said he knew how to break my bond.”

There’s silence on the line for a long moment, then Corbin clears his throat. “Do you think he’s trying to court you?”

“I mean, he didn’t specifically say that, but it was definitely implied,” Stiles answers. “His theory is that if I give up my mortality and leave this realm for good, that would break the bond the same as it would if I died. But the only way to do that, as far as I know, is to bond with a Fae, so yeah, that’s probably his plan.”

“It’s a technicality, but a plausible one,” Corbin says. “How do you feel about it?”

“I mean, on the one hand I guess it’s nice to have another option? But on the other hand, I know better than to trust a Fae.”

“Good boy,” Corbin says, sounding almost fatherly, and Stiles doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “So how did you leave things with him? Did you agree to anything?”

“No. Kira and her friends were right inside the comic book shop, so I just said I couldn’t talk now and he did his whole ‘we’ll meet again, Spark’ thing, then he disappeared.”

“Good,” Corbin says again. “It’s best not to make any agreements with the Fae, no matter how minor, until you decide if you want to accept a courtship.”

There’s a part of Stiles that’s almost tempted, mostly because it would mean keeping his connection to the land surrounding Beacon Hills without having to see the pack and his dad around town. But he still can’t really wrap his head around the whole ‘immortal being’ thing, and the idea of tying himself to another being for all of eternity freaks him out more than he really wants to admit. 

Plus there’s the reputation of the Fae in general to consider. Stiles isn’t in love with Cailean — far from it — but he’s always kind of hoped that when he does finally find someone to bond with, that they could love him the way his dad loved his mom. The idea of bonding with a Fae, spending the rest of eternity tethered to someone as fickle and manipulative as an immortal could be...well, it doesn’t really appeal to him. 

The Fae aren’t really known for their loyalty, for one thing, and monogamy isn’t exactly part of the deal. So even if he did bond with Cailean in order to let Derek off the hook, he’d more or less be right back where he started, only with a lot longer to regret it. He’s not sure why Cailean wants to bond with him when his Spark magic won’t get him anywhere, but there’s always the possibility that getting the Spirit Walker to bond with him when everyone else failed will up his standing in the Court somehow.

Stiles frowns at the thought of being some kind of political chess piece. He knows why it keeps happening, but he can’t help wishing that just once, someone would want him for himself instead of whatever prestige his powers can bring them. It makes him wish he’d noticed Erica’s crush on him back before all this supernatural stuff crash-landed in all their lives, even if nothing ever came of it except the two of them actually being friends.

“Cailean said something else,” Stiles says, because feeling sorry for himself isn’t going to solve his problem. “I asked if me dying again would work the same way as giving up my mortality to break the bond. I don’t think he wanted to admit that it would.”

“I imagine he would have preferred if you didn’t figure out that loophole,” Corbin says.

“Yeah, but if it was true, wouldn’t the bond with Derek have broken when I died the first time?”

There’s more silence on the line, but this time it feels more like Corbin’s thinking about the question rather than worrying about Stiles’ reaction to his answer.

“Not necessarily,” he finally says. “Chances are that igniting your Spark is what cemented your bond to Derek. Before that it was likely tentative enough to keep him from noticing it, but once your magic fully manifested, the bond became real, for lack of a better term.”

“So if I died again…”

Corbin sucks in a breath and Stiles gets what he’s not saying. It’s risky, even though he’s already done it once. But it beats all the other alternatives he’s come up with so far, and if it means Derek’s not stuck playing martyr just to keep Stiles from becoming a magical supernova, it’s probably worth it.

“There is a ritual,” Corbin says. “Generally it’s used by Druids seeking answers from beyond the veil, much the same way Spirit Walkers do. From what I understand, it involves slowing down the heart enough to bring the seeker to the brink of death, and then bringing them back again. But I don’t know anyone who’s ever performed it.”

“I might know somebody,” Stiles says, half to himself, because he’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he knows he needs to have all the information before he makes a decision one way or the other.

“”Information gathering only?” Corbin asks, like he knows what Stiles is thinking. And maybe he does; he’s been in Stiles’ shoes, sort of. He was bonded to someone who wanted him for all the wrong reasons, anyway, and if Stiles wants to break the bond as much for Derek’s sake as his own, it’s not that much different.

“For now.”

Another silence, then a slow exhale that tells him Corbin’s not happy about the current situation, but he’s going to trust Stiles’ judgment for now. “All right. Keep me posted.”

“I will. Thanks, Corbin.”

“No thanks necessary. I’ll get Daphnis to ask the trees what they’ve heard about your Fae while you’re dealing with things in California. I’d like to know if he’s working outside the blessing of the Court.”

He knows what Corbin’s not saying. He wants to know if Morgana gave her blessing for a member of her Court to go after Stiles, even after she promised him there would be no tricks. He wants to know if Stiles is already obligated to the Court somehow, and if so, how to get him out of it.

Stiles swallows a sigh and forces himself not to dwell on the possibility of a new complication. He has enough to deal with between his dad and Derek and the bond he’s already got; if there’s something else he needs to worry about, it’s just going to have to wait.

* * *

Derek’s expecting the confrontation with Scott and Allison. He’s been expecting it since he ran into Lydia in the coffee shop the day before, because he expected Lydia to call Allison as soon as Derek walked away from her. He’s surprised it’s taken them a whole day to come looking for answers, but judging by the expression on Scott’s face, he hasn’t been using that time to cool down.

“Derek!” Scott practically roars, and Derek’s eyes flash red at the challenge, his arms falling from across his chest to a battle-ready stance, just in case Scott’s dumb enough to challenge him directly.

He feels Cora and Peter come up to flank him on his left and right, the only two members of the pack who beat Scott and Allison to the Hale property. The others will be along for training soon, and Derek hopes they don’t show up in the middle of a fight, but if that’s what it takes to get Scott to recognize his authority, he’ll do it.

“Scott,” Derek says, silently congratulating himself on keeping calm in the face of flashing yellow eyes. “Something on your mind?”

“What did you do to Lydia?”

The question catches Derek off guard, because he didn’t _do_ anything, and Lydia was perfectly fine when he walked away from her.

“Is she okay?” he asks, mind racing as he comes up with all kinds of scenarios for what could have happened to her after he left her alone.

“She won’t talk to Allison,” Scott snarls, and Derek rolls his eyes and glances over to find Allison looking like she isn’t altogether on board with this confrontation. “She said she’s leaving at the end of the school year, taking early admittance to college and that she won’t be back.”

“She said she’s not Pack and that as long as I’m spending time with you guys, she wants nothing to do with me,” Allison adds. “When I asked why she said to ask you.”

“I gave Lydia a chance to prove that she wanted to be Pack,” Derek says, relaxing his stance and crossing his arms over his chest again. “It was her decision to skip pack activities and start distancing herself. I ran into her yesterday in town, and the first thing she did was disrespect Stiles’ place in the pack. That was the last straw. He won’t come back if things don’t change. That means no one in the pack treating him like he doesn’t belong here. You know that.”

For a few seconds he thinks Scott’s actually going to argue, to take Lydia’s side over the best friend he’s betrayed so many times already, but finally Scott deflates and lets his eyes bleed back to their usual brown. “What did she say?”

“It’s not important,” Derek says, because there’s no way he’s going to talk to Scott about what his relationship with Stiles will be, if he decides he wants to fix their bond. “What matters is that she can’t respect Stiles and what he means to the pack, and that means there’s no room for her here.”

“But she’s a banshee,” Allison says, her expression confused, like she’s trying to work out if Derek’s allowed to kick out a supernatural pack member, even if they’re detrimental to the rest of the pack.

“Banshees are solitary creatures, traditionally,” Peter says, stepping forward to stand at Derek’s shoulder. “Lydia doesn’t feel the call of the pack bond, not in the way we do.”

“I told her she could come to us if she needs help,” Derek adds. “I didn’t just cut her off, but I can’t have her taking up where Jackson left off and stirring up trouble. If she ever gets over whatever her problem with Stiles is, I’ll reconsider. But if she’s planning to leave town I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I think she’s blaming Stiles for the way Jackson left,” Allison admits. “She thinks if Jackson hadn’t been cut off from the pack that way, he wouldn’t have left. I think she’s just hurt that Jackson didn’t stay for _her_ , you know? So she’s blaming Stiles.”

And sure, Derek can understand her need to place blame on someone else so she won’t have to face the fact that she loved Jackson enough to bring him back from the brink of death, but he didn’t even love her enough to stay in town. Still, he’s not going to sacrifice Stiles, not again, even if it means Lydia leaves town and doesn’t come back.

“She needs to grow up,” Cora says from behind him, and Allison tenses a little, but it’s not like she can disagree.

“The point is,” Derek interjects with a sharp glance at Cora, “that she’s not part of Pack business anymore. That means no telling her what’s going on with us, not even in passing. If there’s something going on I think she needs to know about, I’ll tell you. Otherwise she stays out of it. Got it?”

He can tell by Scott’s mulish expression that he’s about to jump in and defend Allison’s honor, but Derek just shakes his head and continues. “The last time you called Lydia after I told you not to, it almost started a war with the Alpha Pack. Jackson may be gone, but that doesn’t mean she’s not still dangerous to us. I mean it, Scott. If it happens again, you’re both out.”

Scott’s jaw is set like he still wants to argue, but Allison just nods and looks miserable. “I’m really sorry, Derek. I never wanted to upset Stiles. He must hate me.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” a familiar voice says from behind them, and they all turn at once to take in the sight of Stiles himself stepping out of the tree line. There’s a girl with him, her long, dark hair pulled back off her face, and her eyes bright as they move between the pack, but Derek only has eyes for Stiles.

He hasn’t been gone that long, so realistically he hasn’t had time to change much. There’s something about the way he carries himself, though, like there’s a confidence to him Derek’s never seen before. Or maybe it’s the magic making him seem like a force to be reckoned with, amber eyes shining with an almost otherworldly glow, and Derek’s leather jacket wrapped around him like armor.

“Stiles!” Scott shouts in a voice that’s altogether different from the way he’d growled Derek’s name just a few minutes ago, darting forward to fling himself on Stiles, and none of them have time to react before suddenly the strange girl Stiles brought with him is wielding a sword she pulled out of nowhere, aiming it straight for Scott’s heart and her eyes flashing with power.

Derek realizes distantly that this must be the kitsune Stiles has been spending his time with, that she’s threatening his pack and he should probably be attacking. But she’s protecting Stiles, so in the end he just stands there and watches as Scott growls and Stiles steps forward to rest a calming hand on Kira’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s just Scotty,” Stiles says, and just like that Kira blinks and her eyes are back to normal. She blinks again, then her whole face flushes and she stares wide-eyed at the sword in her hands.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she says, glancing first at Stiles and then at Scott. “I don’t...you were just rushing toward him and I just reacted.”

For a second no one reacts, but just when Derek starts to worry that there’s going to be a fight after all, Stiles lets out a laugh. Just like that Scott’s grinning too, and when Kira lowers her sword and then somehow collapses it into some kind of belt to wrap around her waist, Stiles lets go of her shoulder and glances toward Derek for the first time.

“Kira, this is the Hale Pack. Well, most of it,” he says. “You’ve met Scott, and that’s Allison. Cora, Derek, and Peter are back there looking like some kind of criminally hot biker gang.”

Derek rolls his eyes to cover the way his ears want to heat up at the compliment. He hears Peter snicker behind him, but he steps forward and holds out a hand to Kira. “Welcome to our territory, kitsune. It’s nice to see Stiles has someone watching his back.”

“Not that he really needs it,” Kira says, glancing over her shoulder at Stiles to flash another sheepish smile. “Thanks for having me.”

Before Derek can answer they hear a car rolling down the gravel road that leads through the woods, and a minute later Boyd’s car pulls free of the trees to park next to the Camaro. His last three betas stumble out of the car, Erica’s eyes wide when she spots Stiles and the next thing Derek knows, she’s barrelling forward the way Scott did.

Kira doesn’t get between them this time, thankfully, because Derek’s honestly not sure what would happen if she tried to stop Erica from grabbing Stiles and tackling him to the ground. “Batman!”

“Hey, Catwoman,” Stiles says, voice amused even though Derek can’t see his face through the cascade of blonde hair obscuring most of him. “I missed you too.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were coming,” Erica says when she finally lets him up again. “We wanted to throw a welcome home party.”

“Maybe next time,” Stiles hedges with another furtive glance in Derek’s direction. He doesn’t know what it means, but he’s going to cling to the hope that there will be a next time for as long as he can. “I want you guys to meet my friend Kira.”

For the next few minutes or so it’s mostly a blur of people greeting Kira and vying for Stiles’ attention, but when a couple of them try to apologize Stiles puts them off with a tight smile and a ‘we’ll talk about it later’. He can tell Stiles is starting to get overwhelmed, so when he sees Erica go in for her third hug Derek reaches through the crush of bodies to grip Stiles’ bicep and pull him free of the crowd. 

“What do you need?” he asks when they’re finally face-to-face, his gaze wandering over Stiles’ features while he looks for any changes he hasn’t spotted yet.

“Uh,” Stiles says, blinking at him, and Derek doesn’t smirk, even though he wants to. “I need to go talk to my dad. Is it cool if Kira hangs out with the pack for a little while?”

“Are you okay going alone?” Derek asks, because he knows the Sheriff wouldn’t appreciate Derek’s company, but all he cares about right now is what Stiles needs. 

He nods, which isn’t an answer, but Derek doesn’t push it. “You’re staying for a little while, right? I know everyone wants to talk to you.”

 _I want to talk to you_ , he doesn’t add, because he’s pretty sure Stiles already knows.

“Yeah,” Stiles answers with a glance at the pack. “Kira has to get back before it gets too late in New York, but things with my dad shouldn’t take too long. I just have to deliver a message from my mom.”

Derek’s eyes go a little wide at that, but he doesn’t comment on the fact that the Sheriff probably won’t want to let him go as quickly as he plans. Instead he nods and glances over to where Kira’s showing Allison how her sword works. “Kira will be fine here.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, and when he bites his lip Derek does his best not to stare. “Um...I talked to my mom again. Apparently she and your mom are friends now or whatever. Anyway she said that your mom said that you’re ready for your message?”

The reminder brings Derek up short, because he’s thought for awhile now that he’s ready to hear from his mother, but now that he’s faced with it, he’s not sure if he wants to get it over with, or if he should put it off until he can be alone. 

“Yeah,” he says, glancing toward the pack where they’re all pretending not to be listening to his conversation. He catches Cora’s eye and sees her hopeful expression, nodding before he looks back at Stiles. “Maybe before you go.”

Stiles nods, then he turns away from Derek long enough to lean in and whisper the plan to Kira, as though nearly everyone in the clearing can’t hear exactly what he’s saying. He waits for Kira to smile and nod, then Derek blinks and Stiles is gone again.


	43. Chapter 43

Stiles’ last two days in New York are as relaxing as they can be, considering. Christmas Eve involves Kira dragging him to all her favorite places in the city; he stays on alert the whole time in case Cailean reappears, but there are no more run-ins with the Fae or any other supernatural creature.

On Christmas Day itself they order a ton of food and spend the entire day on the couch watching Kira's anime collection, comparing notes on their favorite series and pretending to be normal teenagers, just for the day. Kira’s mom shows him how to brew the druid’s tea and it’s pretty disgusting, but it does make Stiles feel a little more settled, so he doesn’t complain much.

He spends the whole time trying not to think about what’s going to happen when they get to California, but finally the morning of December 26th rolls around, and he can’t avoid it anymore. Kira ushers him out of the house before her parents even get through their first cup of coffee, claiming they’re going to be out all day and not to expect them back before dinner. Her mother gives them a couple suspicious looks, but Stiles is pretty sure it’s more because she can’t figure out why they want to visit the Statue of Liberty than that she thinks they’re lying.

He takes them to the beach first, and yeah, maybe he’s postponing the inevitable a little, but he rationalizes it by telling himself they’re less likely to be spotted appearing out of thin air if they get to the beach before too many tourists show up. Sure enough, it’s empty when they get there, mainly because it’s three hours earlier in California than it is in New York. So it’s just them walking along the sand, both of them quiet until finally they stop at the edge of the water to watch the water lap at the shore.

“So, is it everything you dreamed it would be?” Stiles asks, smirking when Kira punches his bicep.

“Dork. It’s not all that different than the beaches back home, I guess. I don’t know, I thought it would be this completely different experience.”

“It is, down in San Diego and L.A.,” Stiles says. “Guess we should have gone there instead, but I didn’t think of it. This is the beach my mom and I used to come to sometimes, when she was still alive.”

Kira nods as though that’s a perfectly good explanation for why they’re standing on an empty beach in northern California instead of watching early morning rollerbladers and bikers pass by the wide sand of L.A.’s beaches. “It’s still nice. Thanks for bringing me.”

Stiles nods, then he glances over at her. “At least now you can say you’ve been to Japan.”

It earns him another punch, but she laughs, and that helps him feel a little less tense about what he’s going to have to do today. 

“So listen,” he says, casting another sidelong glance in her direction. “I should probably go talk to my dad alone. I mean, to be honest you probably don’t want to see that anyway. But it means ditching you with whichever members of the pack are around, at least for a little while. I don’t know if we’ll find them all or if it’ll just be the Hales, but Cora’s really nice and Derek’s...well, he’s not going to growl at you or anything. Probably.”

Kira smiles at that and loops her arm through his to pull him back up the beach. There are a couple more people out now, one guy with a metal detector who’s ignoring them completely, and then further down the beach there’s a lady doing what looks like Tai Chi on the sand. They’re not paying any attention to Stiles and Kira, but he’d just as soon get out of sight before they magic themselves to Beacon Hills all the same, just so some random person doesn’t accidentally look up and see them disappear. 

“I don’t mind, Stiles. I told you, I’m pretty excited to meet actual werewolves. I have a lot of questions about how packs work.”

He grins at the idea of Derek’s face when Kira starts asking him nearly as many questions as Stiles himself has about werewolves and every other kind of supernatural creature out there. “If Peter’s around, only believe fifty percent of what he tells you.”

“Which fifty percent?”

“That’s a good question,” Stiles says. He pulls them behind a stand of trees near the parking lot and looks around one more time to make sure they’re not being watched, then he closes his eyes and focuses his magic on taking them to Derek. When he feels the rush of familiar magic envelop him Stiles knows he’s home, and he opens his eyes and finds that they’re in the preserve just behind the Hale house.

Or what used to be the Hale house, anyway. Now there’s just an empty lot where the house once stood, and Stiles feels his stomach drop as he realizes just how much he’s missed in the couple months he’s been gone. He looks beyond the empty spot where the house used to be and spots Derek, his stomach lurching for an altogether different reason this time. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, Cora and Peter flanking him, as he squares off with Scott and Allison.

He stretches out his hearing enough to catch the end of their conversation, something about Allison calling Lydia against Derek’s orders and nearly starting a war with the Alpha Pack. He hears the misery in Allison’s voice when she says he must hate her, his magic singing in his veins like it wants to show her just how true that is. Only he doesn’t hate her, really. He’s not her biggest fan, but a lot of the stuff that happened was because she was manipulated by evil people she thought she could trust.

“Hate’s a strong word,” he says as he leads Kira out of the tree line and into the open. They all turn to look at him at once, but he only has a second to enjoy how ridiculous they all look before Scott’s rushing him and Kira’s whipping her katana off her waist to intercept him.

It happens so fast that he doesn’t realize what she’s doing right away, but when every wolf in the clearing tenses he reaches out to rest his hand on her shoulder and call her off. It’s a strange reaction, her being so protective of him when they haven’t known each other all that long, but she’s heard enough stories about the pack from him to be a little on edge in spite of his assurances that they’re friendly enough.

He doesn’t have time to think about why Kira reacted the way she did before Erica and the others show up, and this time when Erica charges him she’s not stopped by a kitsune with a deadly blade. A few minutes later Stiles is sort of wishing Kira had intervened, though, because all of Derek’s betas are swarming him, talking over each other and trying to apologize and ask a million questions. There are hands touching his shoulders and arms, scent marking him in a way they never have before, and when Erica tries to hug him again he has to fight back the urge to use his magic to blast them all away from him.

It’s not that he isn’t happy to see them, except that he’s not sure he really is. Yeah, it’s nice that they’re finally acknowledging his existence, he guesses, but he hasn’t counted any of them as friends for a long time now, and things aren’t just going to go back to normal because they say they’re sorry. That’s what they seem to be expecting, though, so he’s grateful when Derek reaches into the crush of bodies and steers Stiles gently but firmly away from his pack.

Except then he’s face to face with Derek for the first time in nearly two months, and he knows Derek can hear the way his heart’s thudding in his chest. And he hates it, because he’s supposed to be getting over this stupid unrequited _whatever_ , but all it takes is one look in those amazing eyes and he’s right back in.

“What do you need?” Derek asks, all earnest, like he actually cares what Stiles of all people needs. There are so many answers to that question that he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end he just glances over at Kira where she’s charming the pants off the betas just like Stiles knew she would.

“I need to go talk to my dad. Is it cool if Kira hangs out with the pack for a little while?”

Derek agrees, because of course he does, and then he offers to come with Stiles, sort of, which is too much. Stiles can’t even answer out loud, has to settle for nodding, because no, he’s not going to be okay, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to admit it out loud. It’s going to be bad enough facing his father without doing it in front of witnesses, and it’s even worse knowing he’s going to have to come back here afterwards and deal with the rest of the pack.

He can’t think about all that, though, or he’ll end up teleporting himself to a cave in a forest somewhere far away where no one can find him. Instead he takes a second to let Kira know that he’s going and he’ll be back as soon as he can, then he closes his eyes and _believes_ that when he opens them again he’ll be in his father’s back yard.

Once he’s away from Derek it’s a little easier to breathe again. Until he saw Derek he hadn’t realized just how taut the bond between them had gotten, how it stretched thin and tense with the distance. Standing in front of Derek, seeing his stupidly perfect _everything_ again after being apart for so long felt like coming home in a way Stiles doesn’t want to think about. He can’t think about it, because Derek doesn’t want him for him. If Derek wants him at all it’s for the power boost that comes with having a Spark in the pack, and no matter what Stiles tells himself, deep down he knows that will never be enough for him.

He sighs and pushes the thought aside, takes a moment instead to ground himself to the magic he can feel thrumming underneath him. He’d known when he left Beacon Hills that the magic would feel different in Amherst, but now that he’s back he can really feel the difference for the first time. Sure, he’s a powerful Spark no matter where he goes, but here the magic wraps around him, seeks him out and offers itself up to be directed according to his will.

It feels alive to him in a way he never appreciated before, and he knows he won’t be able to leave it behind permanently, no matter what happens with his dad and the pack. 

He knows the easy solution. He could give up his mortality and join the Fae, bond with Cailean and spend the rest of his life right here in the preserve, only in the Fae realm. So he’d be surrounded by the magic that claims him as its own, but he’d never even have to see his father or the pack again if he doesn’t want to.

The thought leaves a hollow feeling in his stomach, but he shoves it away and forces himself to cross the yard to the back door of the house. It feels weird to be knocking on his own door, but then again, he’s not sure this really counts as ‘home’ for him anymore.

When there’s no answer right away he reaches out with his magic to see if his dad’s even here, or if he’s going to have to have it out with him at the station. And he’s definitely not up for a public showdown, so he’s almost relieved to find that his dad’s upstairs asleep, which means he either worked the night shift or he’s working it tonight or maybe both.

Either way, Stiles doesn’t have time to wait around for his dad to fit him into his schedule, so he lets himself into the house and crosses to the coffee pot to get it started while he uses his magic to nudge his father toward consciousness. By the time he hears footsteps on the stairs the coffee’s brewed, and Stiles pulls two cups out of the cupboard and starts fixing his dad’s the way he drinks it when Stiles isn’t around to lecture him about calories.

_Which is all the time, now,_ Stiles reminds himself. He bites back a sigh and turns around at the sound of a sharp inhale, heart in his throat as he takes in the sight of his father. 

It’s dumb, because it hasn’t been quite two months, but for some reason he’s expecting his father to look older. Instead he just looks tired, eyes a little bloodshot like he either drank too much last night, or he hasn’t gotten enough sleep since his last shift. Stiles doesn’t ask which it is, mostly because he doesn’t want to fight. He just wants to do what he came here to do and then leave again, and if he can keep the conversation to a minimum, he’ll consider it a job well done.

“Stiles?” his dad says, voice tentative, like maybe he’s had this dream before.

“Hey, Dad,” he answers, then he sets the coffee he made for his father down on the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I kind of helped myself.”

His dad ignores the question and takes a couple steps forward like maybe he’s thinking about grabbing Stiles and hugging him, then stops as though he’s not sure whether or not he should. “It’s...uh...it’s good to see you, kid. You look good.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck and does his best not to point out how awkward this whole mess is. “Sorry for just dropping in. I wasn’t sure if you’d be home.”

“Yeah, I’m on nights right now,” his dad says, still staring at him like he’s expecting Stiles to disappear. “Not a lot of reason to be around here at night these days, so I’ve been giving my deputies a break.”

Stiles doesn’t point out that his father worked plenty of nights even when Stiles was around. He worked plenty of holidays, too, and plenty of doubles. In fact, for a small town Sheriff he spent an awful lot of time on the clock, something Stiles tried not to resent when he was younger. It’s a lot harder now, knowing what he does about how eager his father was to ship him off to unsuspecting relatives.

“Well I can’t stay,” Stiles says, setting his coffee cup down on the counter behind him. “I left my friend Kira with the pack, and I don’t want to abandon her for too long. She’s really had my back since we met, so I’d just as soon not ditch her with strangers.”

His father frowns like maybe he thinks there’s some kind of insult in there, but if he can’t work it out Stiles isn’t going to spell it out for him. “You just got here. We need to talk.”

“What’s there to say, Dad?” he asks, rolling his eyes at the look on his father’s face. “You didn’t want me hanging out with the pack, but it’s cool if you go to their parties and ask Derek’s advice on cases, right? Are you going to be their inside man now? I mean, hey, it’s an upgrade for them. They ditched the mouthy one with police connections and upgraded to the real deal.”

He sees the way his dad’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t get to be mad about this, not when he’s the one who practically accused Stiles of letting his own mother die and then didn’t even try to make it better.

“It’s not like that and you know it, kid.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles sneers, “and how would I know that? You couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I’ve barely talked to any of my so-called friends since I left. And this whole time, do you know what I was waiting for? I was just waiting for you to call me up and tell me that you didn’t mean it. That you didn’t mean it when you basically said I killed mom. That all those times when you got drunk and told me it should have been me that died, that you didn’t really mean it. But you couldn’t even do that, could you? Because it would have been a lie.”

The anger slips right off his dad’s face, and by the time Stiles is finished talking he’s white as a ghost. It’s probably not the best time to deliver his mother’s message, but Stiles isn’t going to stand here and listen to his father try to deny what they both know is true. He doesn’t even know if his dad remembers any of those nights when he drank too much and told his own flesh and blood to get out of his sight because he couldn’t stand to look at those eyes, but he’s not going to stick around to find out.

“Look, I just came here to give you a message. Mom wanted you to have it.”

“You...how?” his dad says, barely a whisper, and Stiles rolls his eyes again and sniffs a little before he crosses the kitchen to stand in front of his dad.

“I told you, I can speak to the dead now. It’s kind of my thing.”

He doesn’t give his dad a warning before he reaches out, placing his hands on either side of his dad’s head and willing the message into him. Once it’s done he takes a step backwards, watching his father stagger a little before he pulls out a kitchen chair and sits down hard. He knows from watching Peter and Cora that the message is pretty much instantaneous, like remembering something that already happened. He supposes he’ll never get to experience it firsthand, but he actually gets to see and touch his mom, even if it’s only on the spiritual plane, so he’s not complaining.

“Stiles,” his dad says, eyes filling up with tears, and watching his dad cry is something Stiles has never gotten used to. Not that it’s happened all that often, but there have been enough drunken, tear-filled rages to make him uncomfortable seeing it now. “Son, I’m sorry. You have to know I didn’t mean any of that.”

Stiles shrugs, because he has no reason to think his dad didn’t mean it, no matter what his mother said to him to make him feel guilty. If this is what it takes to get an apology out of him, Stiles isn’t even sure he wants it anymore. But it’s obvious his dad is upset, which means he’s probably going to start drinking as soon as Stiles leaves, and who knows what shape he’ll be in for the night shift.

“Look, are you going to be okay?” he asks. “Do I need to call the station and tell them you won’t be in tonight?”

“No,” his dad says, scrubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to pull himself together. “No, but Stiles, we need to talk about this.”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Stiles says. “Mom asked me to give you her message and I did. I have to go, Kira’s waiting for me.”

He lets himself out of the house before his dad can get it together enough to try to stop him. It wouldn’t be even close to a fair fight, but Stiles doesn’t really want to use magic on his father after delivering whatever blow was in his mom’s message. So he closes the back door and uses his magic to keep it locked for a few minutes, then he closes his eyes and _believes_ himself back to the spot where he left Derek.


	44. Chapter 44

Stiles doesn’t realize he’s shaking until he finds himself back in the clearing where the Hale house used to stand. It’s his hands, mostly, but his legs feel a little unsteady too, like they might decide to go out from under him at any second. He’s kind of surprised he didn’t accidentally magic himself to Canada or something; he probably should have called and gotten Derek to come pick him up, but there was no way he was going to wait around in front of his dad’s house for the fifteen minutes it would take Derek to drive there.

When he looks around he realizes the only person left in the clearing is Derek himself. He’s leaning against the Camaro when Stiles appears, arms crossed over his chest and looking as blank-faced as he used to back when he first came back to Beacon HIlls, but as soon as he sees Stiles he’s moving. Hands close around his biceps for the second time that day, and Stiles blinks up into worried but still human eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, though he’s not sure it’s the truth. Still, he doesn’t really want to talk about it, not even with Derek, so he shrugs it off and does his best to pull himself together. “Where’s Kira?”

“She said you two hadn’t eaten yet, so the others took her to the diner for breakfast. I thought we should talk before we joined them.”

Derek lets go of him and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking for all the world like he’s actually nervous. Just the thought makes Stiles want to laugh, but he has a feeling Derek wouldn’t get the joke. He still doesn’t want to talk about any of it, but he knows he has to, and it’s a lot less overwhelming when it’s just Derek instead of the entire pack all rushing him at once.

“All right,” he says, then he tugs the ends of Derek’s leather jacket a little closer around himself. “Sorry about stealing your jacket, by the way. I wasn’t actually planning on leaving town when I did, it all happened kind of fast.”

“It’s okay,” Derek answers, his lips quirking up into a little smile that Stiles tries really hard not to find attractive. “Though I remember what winters are like out there, and it doesn’t really seem warm enough for you.”

“Yeah, Kira keeps telling me I’m going to freeze to death come February,” he says with a shrug, like it doesn’t matter. The truth is that he likes having something of Derek’s with him, like a shield against all the weirdness and the people hitting on him so they can get access to his power. He’s not about to admit that to Derek, though, so he just shrugs and adds, “You can have it back.”

Derek shakes his head and reaches up with one hand to run his fingers over the few days’ worth of growth on his chin. It’s longer than Stiles is used to, and he kind of wants to run his own fingers over it and see if it’s as scratchy as it looks. “You should hang onto it. It looks good on you.”

The sound Stiles makes is some weird fusion of a laugh and a scoff. The idea that Derek thinks he looks good, that he’s...well, sort of flirting, is so ridiculous that for a second he wonders if he’s hallucinating. 

He blames the utter weirdness of the situation for what he says next, because he certainly doesn’t mean to open his mouth and blurt out, “One of the Fae from the Autumn Court tracked me down in New York.”

Just for a second Derek’s face does something weird, and on anybody else Stiles would probably call it fear. But before he can decide whether or not he’s hallucinating that too, Derek’s expression smooths out into his usual blank stare.

“Do you think they’re dangerous?”

Stiles shrugs and glances toward the trees like maybe he expects to find a Fae lurking around. “I mean, all Fae are dangerous, right? But I don’t think he wants to hurt me or anything, if that’s what you mean. He actually wanted to talk to me about breaking our bond.”

This time he’s almost sure he sees worry flicker across Derek’s features for just a moment. “I thought the only way was for both of us to want it to break.”

He nods and looks down for a second before he meets Derek's gaze again. “It’ll also break if one of us dies.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t dangerous,” Derek says, his eyebrows doing that thing where he looks furious, but Stiles is pretty sure means he’s worried. 

“Relax, he’s not going to show up and kill you,” Stiles says. At least he’s pretty sure that wouldn’t happen; it would definitely be a breach of the accord between the Hale Pack and the Autumn Court, anyway, and Stiles knows Morgana would be pissed if that happened.”He thinks if I gave up my mortality and bonded with a Fae, it would work the same way as if I died.”

Derek looks skeptical, and Stiles can’t really blame him, because he’s still not sure he buys it either. 

“So what’s happening here?” Stiles asks, gesturing toward the empty clearing where a house used to stand. 

“We’re rebuilding the house,” Derek answers, still frowning. “Don’t change the subject. Are you really thinking about...what, becoming immortal?”

“Not really. I mean, immortal, that’s a big commitment,” Stiles answers. “Plus, I don’t think Cailean means me any harm or anything, but I don’t really know him well enough to sign on for eternity with the dude.”

“But you’re still thinking about it,” Derek says, like he can read Stiles’ mind. Maybe he can; maybe that fortune cookie Peter’s got him working with is teaching him all sorts of tricks while Stiles isn’t around.

“It’s an option, sure. But mostly I’ve been thinking about something he said, sort of a loophole that might break the bond without me having to jump right into a bond with somebody else. I have to talk to a couple people first before I know for sure whether or not it’s even possible.”

“But don’t you need to be bonded for control?” Derek asks, frowning. “Peter said…”

“I’m doing okay,” Stiles interrupts, because he doesn’t really give a damn what Peter thinks he knows about what’s been going on with Stiles since he left. “Corbin’s been teaching me some stuff, and the druid I met in New York sold me this tea that helps.”

Derek’s eyebrows do a complicated sort of dance at that, and for a second Stiles thinks he’s going to get a lecture about trusting strangers. He has no idea what his own face does in response, but it must get his point across because instead of a lecture, Derek’s shoulders kind of slump and he lets out a little sigh. 

“How’d you find this Druid, anyway?”

“Kira’s mom knows her. She buys some Japanese tea from her,” Stiles answers. “You really never met her? I mean, I know it’s a big city and there’s probably more than one druid, but she seems like she’s been in business for a long time.”

Derek shakes his head, expression a little distant, like maybe he’s remembering his time in the city. “To be honest we lived a lot like humans while we were there. If Laura ever consulted a Druid she didn’t tell me about it. Besides, we were living in Brooklyn. If she did need a Druid she would have found one closer to us.”

“Really?” Stiles asks before he can stop himself. “I always pictured you guys running around Central Park during the full moon.”

Derek’s smile is a little wistful, and Stiles immediately feels guilty, because he knows what a big deal it is that Derek’s even said Laura’s name, let alone told him about their time out east. But he doesn’t look mad, and a second later he blinks and focuses on Stiles again.

“We went to Prospect Park when we wanted to run. It was a lot closer than Central Park, and there were less tourists to worry about.”

Stiles nods, feeling stupid, because how is he supposed to answer that? ‘Sounds fun’ doesn’t cut it, and it’s not like he can just blurt out something like ‘sorry for making you talk about your dead sister’, especially when she wasn’t just his sister. When Derek lost Laura he lost his Alpha too, and Stiles has no idea how he survived it. But before he can think of something to say that doesn’t make him sound completely insensitive, Derek clears his throat and changes the subject.

“There’s another option,” he says, taking a step toward Stiles like maybe he’s thinking about reaching out. It’s weird, and a year ago Stiles would be hyperventilating just at the thought of Derek touching him, but now...now everything feels more real somehow, and suddenly he doesn’t know what he wants. “We could complete our bond.”

“Peter told you what that means, right?” he asks, because he wouldn’t put it past Peter to leave out certain details in the hopes of tricking Derek into completing the bond. Not that it wouldn’t become pretty obvious once they got to the point where they had to do the actual bonding, but there’s no way Stiles would spring that on Derek, not after what he’s already been through with Kate.

“Yeah,” Derek answers, ducking his head just far enough for Stiles to see the tips of his ears turning red. So Peter was upfront for once after all, then. “I know it’s not ideal, considering, but we could make it work, don’t you think?”

And the thing is, if Derek had said all this to him a year ago -- hell, six months ago -- Stiles would have jumped at the chance and felt lucky that Derek finally wanted him. But now that it’s not even their choice, the whole thing just feels wrong. He doesn’t want to force Derek into a relationship with someone he barely tolerated not that long ago, and Stiles doesn’t want his one and only chance at a committed relationship to be an obligation.

He’s shaking his head before he can stop himself, ignoring the way his heart aches at the flash of hurt in Derek’s eyes. “Dude, you could barely stand to be in the same room as me not three months ago.”

He sort of expects Derek to deny it, so he’s surprised when he gets a sheepish smile and a slight nod. “I didn’t appreciate everything you did for the pack. For me. I was in over my head and I took it out on you when you were the only one trying to help. I’m sorry.”

For a few seconds Stiles just blinks at him, then he says, “Man, Peter’s Alpha Whisperer really has done a number on you.”

The smile it gets him is small, but it’s far more genuine than the smirk Derek pulls out for strangers, and Stiles curses his traitorous heart for skipping at the sight. “She was a friend of my mother’s. She’s helped me a lot.”

Stiles knows exactly how formidable Talia Hale is as a spirit, so he can only imagine she what she was like when she was the Alpha of the Hale Pack. It makes sense that Derek would listen to someone who used to have Talia’s ear, even if Peter’s the one who recommended her. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that he and Derek haven’t even been friends, let alone something more, and now Derek wants to sign them both up for forever.

“Look, it’s great that you’re figuring things out with the pack and all that,” Stiles says, glancing over his shoulder at the clearing where the house used to be. “I mean it, I’m really happy for you. And I get that you might want me around more now that I’ve got all this magic and I can apparently produce, like, supercharged werewolf babies, which is never going to stop being weird, by the way.”

“That’s not…” Derek says, but Stiles shakes his head and talks over him.

“No, dude, listen. I get that you’re trying here, and I appreciate it, I do. If you’d said any of this to me before I left town, I don’t know, maybe I would have jumped at the chance. But I’ve been out there now, and I see how big the world is. I’ve barely even kissed anyone and now I’m supposed to think about forever with someone who doesn’t even really know me?”

Derek opens his mouth, like maybe he’s going to try to argue that he knows what he needs to about Stiles. But they both know it would be a lie, so in the end he just shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “Does that mean you’re thinking about not coming back to Beacon Hills?”

He wants to say yes. He’s thought about it, probably more than he should, but now that he’s been back he can feel how much stronger his magic is here. It’s reaching up to him from the soles of his feet, singing in his veins and rushing through his blood, just waiting to be called. He can feel it in the air around him and hear the Nemeton out in the woods, calling out to him. Everything feels _more_ , and he knows he won’t be able to stay away for long. 

“I mean, I’ve thought about it, sure. But Daphnis said…”

“Who?” Derek interrupts, confusion making his eyebrows draw together, and Stiles has to stifle a grin. 

“The dryad I told you about. She talks to the trees, and she said when I bled on the Nemeton it bonded my magic even more strongly to the land. So I don’t think I could stay away, even if I wanted to, you know?”

Derek nods, but Stiles can tell he doesn’t really get it. Not that he blames the guy; Stiles doesn’t really understand it either, but he’s willing to take Daphnis’ word for it, especially when it comes to the Nemeton.

“Do you think you could stay the night, at least?” Derek asks, glancing up at Stiles from under his eyelashes, like that’s fair at all. “I know the others want a chance to clear the air. They have a lot to apologize for.”

It’s the last thing Stiles wants to do. He’s never been all that good at confrontation, especially when it’s easier just to ignore the problem until it goes away on its own. He’s really not looking forward to having it out with Scott; the others he’s not that mad at, not anymore, but he can’t shake the disappointment of knowing Scott chose to blow him off for Isaac on purpose, even after Stiles stuck by his side through all his bullshit. 

For a long time he just wanted things to go back to the way they’d always been, just Scott and Stiles against the world. But he knows now that they’ll never be that again, and the thought of saying it out loud makes his chest ache.

“Kira has to get back. Her mom…”

“But you can send her on her own, can’t you?” Derek asks, gentle, like maybe he’s trying not to piss Stiles off. “Just one night.”

“I can’t, Derek. Things with my dad are really weird right now, I can’t go home.”

“You can stay at the loft. Everyone will probably end up crashing there anyway. You don’t have to worry about Lydia, she’s not even talking to Allison right now. Everyone who’s there wants to see you, I promise.”

Stiles can tell Derek believes that, but he’s pretty sure it’s not true. Isaac hates him, and Boyd’s indifferent at best. But he doesn’t hate the thought of hanging out with Cora and Erica, and he’d like to catch up with Peter. Then there’s Derek, which is a whole other problem Stiles definitely isn’t thinking about right now. 

He wonders what happened with Lydia; last he heard from Erica she was filling in on research and hating every second of it. Stiles had considered sending her the links to the online resources he’d accumulated over the past year, but in the end he decided it wasn’t worth the chance of her pissing off someone he relied on for information. 

Instead of asking about her he nods toward the Camaro, then he takes a couple steps closer to Derek. “Let’s see how breakfast goes first.”

“Okay.” Derek smiles again, soft and almost shy, and Stiles wants to punch him in the face for finally being the Derek he’s been dreaming about since he was a little kid. It’s not fair, but Stiles knows it won’t do either of them any good if he just gives in and agrees to complete the bond. If he does he knows he’ll just end up feeling like an obligation, the guy who trapped Derek into a relationship he didn’t want just because of what he can offer the pack.

But maybe he can give Derek a night, talk things out with some of the pack and see how they all feel tomorrow. It won’t fix everything -- he’s not sure things with his dad can ever be fixed -- but he can see that Derek’s trying, so Stiles can try to meet him halfway.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get back on a regular posting schedule. This was done last night, but I couldn't keep my eyes open long enough to give it a final read-through, so it had to wait until this morning. Thanks for your patience, those of you who are still following along.

Derek’s prepared not to like Kira. She’s not pack, for one thing, which means he can’t trust her even if Stiles does. But there’s also the fact that he’s been thinking of her as ‘that Kitsune who’s getting all of Stiles’ attention’ ever since he heard about her, and he’d never admit it out loud, but maybe he’s a little jealous.

It’s stupid, because it’s his own fault Stiles felt like he had to leave, but that doesn’t mean Derek has to like his new friends. Except that then Kira steps in front of Stiles to protect him from Scott, of all people, without even hesitating. And maybe he could write that off as just an instinct, but once Stiles leaves to go see his dad and Derek’s able to focus on the pack again, he can see exactly how protective Kira is of him even when he’s not there.

She’s perfectly nice, smiling and patiently answering all Allison’s questions about her custom katana without ever letting on to the pack that it’s actually her first tail. The only reason Derek knows is because Satomi explained it when he mentioned that Stiles was spending time with a kitsune. He’d tried not to show his worry about one of his pack members spending so much time around an unknown creature, but of course Satomi could read him like a book, so she’d gently explained what kitsunes were about, how their tails manifested, and the basics of what went along with it.

After that impromptu lesson Derek had felt a little better about the whole situation, but it hadn’t done anything to help him shake the jealousy. So he’s prepared not to like Kira, but then she goes and proves herself loyal to Stiles within the first minute of their meeting, and she smiles like she’s made of sunshine and makes dorky jokes and it’s kind of impossible not to like her.

Derek could have managed it anyway, he knows, given how much of Stiles’ attention she gets, but when he listens to her talk to certain members of the pack he can tell that she’s still protecting Stiles even though he’s not here.

He’s not sure if the betas notice, if they pick up on the cool way she turns away from Isaac when he tries to engage her in favor of answering one of Erica’s questions instead, or the way she watches Boyd a little warily, like she’s not exactly sure what to make of him. He’d think she just doesn’t feel comfortable around men, except for the sunny smile she turns on Peter when he asks how she and Stiles met and what they get up to together back in Amherst.

Her gaze cuts to Derek in the moment before she answers, as though maybe she understands that he’s jealous of all the time she gets to spend with Stiles, and her smile turns even softer. 

“Professor Thoreaux introduced us. It’s kind of a long story, but I ended up in one of his intro classes and he’s magic, so of course he could see what I was right away. I didn’t really know much about being a kitsune, so he lent me some books and stuff. Anyway I guess he thought since Stiles and I are close in age and we’re both just figuring out all this supernatural stuff, we could both use a friend. It’s nice to have somebody to talk to about all of it.”

“So are you and Stiles going to bond or whatever?” Isaac asks, and Derek doesn’t miss the way her eyes narrow when she glances in the direction of his voice.

“No. That was one of the first things we talked about, actually. He wanted to make sure I knew it wasn’t going to happen, and I wanted him to know that wasn’t even on my radar. He’s been a great friend, I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

There’s a bite in her voice on the last words, and Derek can tell by the way most of the betas flinch that they found their target. It’s in that moment he decides that he could like Kira, no matter how much time she gets to spend with Stiles. She’s the kind of friend he deserves, and Derek finds himself sort of wishing she could join the pack on a more permanent basis, if only so Stiles would be more comfortable coming home.

“Well, since we have such a charming guest with us today,” Peter says, casting a knowing look in Derek’s direction, “shall we skip the usual training session and go to the diner instead? You know how much Stiles adores that place.”

Derek nods, grateful that his uncle somehow knows without being told that he’s been hoping for a chance to speak to Stiles alone. Maybe right after he sees his father isn’t the best time, but if it’s the only opportunity Derek gets, he’ll take it.

“Food would be amazing,” Kira agrees. “We didn’t even think about breakfast before we left the city this morning.”

“That’s settled then,” Peter says, and he sounds way more cheerful than he’d normally be at the prospect of spending his entire morning hanging out in public with a bunch of teenagers. “We might need to squeeze an extra body or two into the cars, but pack is all about togetherness, after all.”

“What about Stiles?” Scott pipes up with a confused frown. “We should wait for him.”

“I’ll stay here and wait,” Derek says, shaking his head when Scott opens his mouth to protest. “We don’t know how long he’s going to take with his dad. The rest of you go on, and I’ll bring him when he’s ready.”

He doesn’t point out that it might take a while for Stiles to be ready to face them again, because he knows Scott wouldn’t get it. He still doesn’t quite understand that it’s going to take a little more than a goofy smile and a ‘sorry, bro’ to get back to where he and Stiles used to be, if that’s even possible. Derek’s not so sure it is, not with the way Stiles has changed since his spark was ignited. 

He’s still the most loyal person Derek’s ever met, but the power building inside him has given him the confidence to stand up for himself in a way he didn’t when Derek first came back to Beacon Hills. It’s pretty clear he’s done letting his friends take advantage of him, but Derek knows that’s a lesson Scott’s going to have to learn the hard way.

Finally they manage to convince Scott to go, mainly by virtue of Allison dragging him back to her car, and Derek never thought he’d find himself grateful to an Argent. He watches them pull away before he turns back to the clearing, leaning against the Camaro and visualizing the house that’s going to stand there one day soon. A house he hopes will be filled with pack, whether they’re living there or just visiting.

Peter and Cora are planning to move in, obviously, maybe even Isaac too, now that he’s not working so hard to replace Stiles in Scott’s life. Erica and Boyd are more likely to get their own place and then spend most of their time hanging out at the pack house and eating all of Derek’s food, but he doesn’t mind as long as they’re around. He doubts Scott and Allison will want to live with him, and he’s more than fine with that, but he hopes that maybe Stiles will consider staying there sometimes, even if he eventually works things out with his father. 

He assumes that’s exactly what Stiles and his dad are doing right now, so he’s surprised when Stiles reappears in front of him not long after the others leave. He’s shaky and pretty clearly distressed, but Derek doesn’t push him to talk about it. He doesn’t have the right, not yet, when Stiles still doesn’t see Derek as his Alpha. Maybe someday he’ll trust Derek that much, but it’s going to take more work, so until then Derek turns the conversation to the bond and what it means for both of them.

He’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt to know how determined Stiles is to break their bond. It bothers him more than it probably should, especially when Stiles starts talking about going out and experiencing what the world has to offer. But Derek doesn’t have any room to talk, especially considering his own past, so he bites his tongue and doesn’t demand to know what Stiles is planning to do to break the bond and exactly how dangerous it’s going to be.

Trusting other people hasn’t been his strong suit for a really long time, but if he wants any chance at a future with Stiles in it, he knows he has to start somewhere. So he doesn’t ask any of the questions racing through his mind on the way to the diner, instead letting Stiles stare out the window as the Preserve fades into the town where he’s spent his whole life. 

It’s strange, seeing Stiles so quiet when Derek’s used to him having an opinion on anything and everything. Then again, now that he knows what he does about Stiles’ relationships with his father and with the pack, Derek wonders if the reason he spent so much time talking was because he was just trying to get his voice heard. The thought makes him frown, especially when he remembers how dismissive he was of all the research Stiles has done for him since Scott was bitten.

He pulls into the diner parking lot, out on the edge where it’s less likely the rest of the pack will pick up on their voices and listen in. When Stiles moves to get out of the car Derek reaches over, closing a hand around his wrist and making Stiles look back at him.

“I never thanked you,” he says, fingers still pressed against the warmth of Stiles’ skin.

“For what? Finally annoying you into learning to be a better Alpha?” Stiles asks, and he’s going for sarcastic, but Derek can smell the nerves radiating off him. He smirks at the joke anyway, because that’s not really what happened, but it’s close enough.

“For trying to help me. For helping everyone, even when we didn’t realize it. You got Social Services off Isaac’s back, didn’t you?”

Stiles shrugs, but his scent shifts to something less nervous and more embarrassed. “Maybe I was just protecting the other foster kids from his ‘roid rage.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you were looking out for the pack because that’s what a good Second does. It’s what a good emissary does, too.” Derek pauses and slides his hand down Stiles’ wrist to wrap around his fingers. “And it’s what a good alpha mate does.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying thank you,” Derek answers, then he shrugs and squeezes Stiles’ hand before he lets go. “You’ve always been the one I counted on, the one I trusted the most. I just wish I’d let myself admit it before you felt like you had to leave.”

“I didn’t leave because of you,” Stiles says, his voice soft, but Derek hears it anyway.

“I know. But I should have given you a reason to stay.”

He opens the car door and climbs out before Stiles has a chance to say anything. He doesn’t want to pressure Stiles to give him an answer, but he also needs a minute to calm his racing heart. He hasn’t been that honest with anyone — with himself — for a long time, and now that he has he feels exposed in a way he’s not used to. It’s worth it, though, when Stiles climbs out of the car a minute later, cheeks flushed and stumbling a little before he finds his balance. 

And maybe Stiles is right that they don’t know the little, everyday things about each other, but Derek _knows_ Stiles. He doesn’t have to know how he likes his eggs or whether he ever cries at sad movies to know the kind of person Stiles is. He’s always known what kind of person Stiles is — stubborn, brilliant, loyal to a fault, and self-sacrificing in a way that keeps Derek up at night — but maybe what Stiles needs is for Derek to show him that he knows all that.

They’ve touched each other plenty of times, starting with that first time they met, when Derek shoved Stiles and made him cry, and he cringes to remember it now. But most of the times Derek’s touched Stiles have been during life or death situations, pulling him out of danger or hanging on while Stiles returns the favor. He’s threatened Stiles and even injured him a time or two, but he’s never let himself touch Stiles just because before today.

He’s wanted to, didn’t understand why he felt that pull and usually ended up lashing out as a result, but now that he gets it, he can’t seem to stop himself. It started with catching Stiles in the clearing when he turned up looking shaky and sort of lost, then there was grabbing his wrist and then his hand in the car. Now it feels natural to put his hand on Stiles’ back and steer him into the diner, keeping it there until they reach the crowd of tables all shoved together where the pack has left two seats empty at one end.

Scott’s pouting, which tells Derek he probably wanted to sit next to Stiles and didn’t get his way. Kira’s sitting between Cora and Erica, waving her hands around as she tells some story that has most of the betas enthralled. He smirks and guides Stiles to one of the empty seats, only pulling his hand away when he has to in order to take his own seat.

When Kira sees them sit down she pauses her story to look over at Stiles. “Everything okay?”

The only answer he gives her is a shrug, but that seems to be enough to tell her how things went with his dad. Derek can feel the tension radiating off Stiles and he wants to reach over and touch again, a hand on his arm or his shoulder just to let him know he doesn’t have to deal with any of this alone. 

But he’s not sure how Stiles would feel about that when the whole pack is watching, so he keeps his hands to himself and picks up the menu just to have something to do. 

Once the waitress comes over and takes their orders the conversation turns to what Stiles has been doing in Amherst since he left. They’ve heard a little, mostly from Cora, but it’s different hearing it directly from Stiles. 

“Mostly I’ve been doing a lot of research. Corbin got me a temporary student I.D. which gives me access to the libraries on five different campuses, and their folklore collections are amazing. My job technically hasn’t started yet, so I’ve mostly been working on putting together a bestiary that wasn’t written by hunters. No offense,” he adds with a glance in Allison’s direction.

Before she can do more than blink at him Peter’s leaning around Derek to catch Stiles’ eye. “You’ve been putting together your own bestiary?”

“Yeah, I mean I figured I might as well do something with all the research I’ve done on the creatures that turn up here.”

Peter nods and flashes smile that most people would call creepy. “I’ve done quite a lot of research myself over the years. Perhaps when you come back for a longer stay we can put our heads together and see what happens.”

Derek lets out a low growl, just to see his uncle laugh and wink at him. Stiles looks between the two of them for a long moment before he nods slowly. 

“Sure, as long as everybody keeps their hands to themselves.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Peter says, his grin even wider now. 

“Wait,” Scott pipes up from where he’s still sulking halfway down the table. “You’re still going back there?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, casting a quick glance in Derek’s direction, like maybe he expects Derek to put up a fight about him leaving again. “I still have stuff to learn about my spark. Plus Corbin offered me a research assistant job for the semester and it comes with college credit. I’m not going to bail on him.”

“Derek, you’re seriously going to let him...”

“Let me?” Stiles interrupts, eyes narrowing in Scott’s direction as the table in front of him starts to shake ever so slightly.

Derek catches the scent of Stiles’ anger rising, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from reaching over to rest a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, squeezing gently. He half expects Stiles to shrug him off or maybe turn that anger on him, but instead he feels Stiles relax under his touch, shoulders slumping just a fraction as he lets out a soft breath. The table stops shaking, and Derek exhales and shifts a fraction closer to Stiles. He catches the smug look Cora and Peter exchange out of the corner of his eye, but Derek ignores it and focuses on keeping Stiles calm.

“Scott, leave it,” he says, pushing just a touch of Alpha into his voice. “We’ll talk about it later.”

He doesn’t really think there’s anything to talk about; it’s Stiles’ decision, and they can’t tell him what to do. Derek’s certainly never been able to get Stiles to do anything just by telling him, so he doubts it’s going to work any better for Scott. But they’ve been friends for a long time, and if they need to hash all this out then they can do it somewhere where they’re less likely to be overheard talking about magic and sparks and the supernatural.

“Fine,” Scott grumbles, but he lets it go, so Derek calls it a win.

“Hey,” Kira says, her voice cutting through the tension in the room, “has Stiles told you guys about the time he was invited to watch a coven practice, and they performed the entire ritual naked?”

The betas all start talking at once, and Derek feels Stiles’ skin heat up under his hand even as embarrassment floods his scent. There’s amusement underneath the embarrassment as he shoots Kira a mock glare, though, then he’s leaning forward and letting Derek’s hand slide from his neck to rest between his shoulders as he starts telling the story. It’s the perfect distraction, really, and now Derek’s sure of one thing: He definitely likes Kira.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again. My anxiety disorder has been kicking my ass for the past few months, which makes things like writing and answering comments and pretty much everything about as easy as trying to wade through knee-deep molasses. Also this story went off the rails outline-wise a couple chapters back, so now I'm sort of making up the plot as I go along, which means writing is harder. But I'm still working on it, so we'll get to the ending eventually.
> 
> On an unrelated note, I finally figured out how to get surfgirl1's gorgeous cover art posted at the beginning of chapter one. I'm so sorry it took me this long. I still don't know what I was doing wrong for so long, but I finally made it work by accident. I'm afraid to touch it again in case I break it, tbh.

Somehow they manage to make it through the rest of their breakfast without anyone else asking Stiles when he’s planning to come home for good. He knows he overreacted a little to what Scott said, but his so-called best friend has been a sore spot for him since the text where Scott admitted to ditching him for Isaac on purpose. Isaac who’s been giving Stiles weird, searching looks with his giant puppy eyes all morning, which is frankly unsettling from someone who’s never made a secret of how much he hates Stiles.

He knows Scott doesn’t get why he’s so mad; he’s probably even hurt that Stiles hasn’t been in touch in the weeks since he left town. Chances are he expects to say he’s sorry and flash that stupid grin of his and Stiles will forgive him just like he always does. That’s what his dad expected, and in a way it’s Stiles’ fault for caving so many times over the years. 

But he’s tired of pretending everything’s cool and pushing his feelings down. He’s tired of acting like it doesn’t hurt to be pushed aside and taken for granted just because he’s afraid of losing the few people who care about him. In the last few months he’s learned that there are other people out there who see his value, and not all of them want to steal his magic. 

It’s obvious that Scott's going to corner him at some point before the end of the day and force him to talk about it, but Stiles is happy to put it off as long as possible. That’s why, when someone suggests they head back to the preserve so Kira can show them how her powers work, Stiles says, “You guys go ahead. I need to talk to Deaton about something, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Why do you need to talk to Deaton?” Scott says at the same moment Kira asks, “Who’s Deaton?”

“He’s the local vet. Also a druid,” Stiles answers, ignoring Scott’s question entirely. “Sorry I keep ditching you. It won’t take long, I swear.”

“It’s fine,” Kira says, smiling in that sunny way that made Stiles want to trust her from their first meeting. “Most of your friends are cool.”

Stiles doesn’t bother stifling a laugh at that. Neither do Cora and Erica, and for once Peter’s smirk is more amused than creepy. Kira still looks like the picture of innocence, but it’s obvious to everyone in the group that she’s on Stiles’ side all the way. It’s a nice feeling, one he hasn’t had since his mom died, and Stiles feels his heart stutter at the thought.

“I’ll go with you,” Derek says from behind him, then a hand lands on Stiles’ shoulder, like maybe Derek’s holding on just in case Stiles decides to blink out of existence and ditch him. He wants to tell Derek that teleporting doesn’t work like apparition, and if Stiles wanted to ditch him a hand on his shoulder wouldn’t bring Derek along for the ride. But he knows Derek’s worried about what Stiles is planning to do to break the bond, so he just rolls his eyes and gives Derek a curt nod.

“Fine.”

They wave goodbye to the rest of the pack and climb back into the Camaro to make the short drive to the vet’s. Stiles is expecting more of Derek’s stoic silence, so he’s surprised when Derek clears his throat and looks over at him. 

“Kira’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome.”

“It’s a shame she lives so far away, I think she’d fit in well with the pack.”

Stiles looks over at Derek, frowning at the way he’s gripping the steering wheel a little harder than necessary. “You know there’s nothing going on with us, right? We’re just friends.”

Derek nods without looking at him, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wants to smile. It should be annoying, because it’s not like it’s any of Derek’s business who Stiles is or isn’t dating, but there’s a small, traitorous part of him that’s just glad Derek’s finally paying attention. 

“Cora said something about that,” Derek answers, his gaze sliding over to Stiles before he looks back at the road. “But she seems like she’s been a good friend to you. I can’t really say the same for the rest of us.”

Stiles shrugs as Derek pulls into the parking lot outside Deaton’s clinic. “It’s not like I won’t be able to see her when I leave Amherst. I mean, travel isn’t really an issue for me.”

It’s an understatement, and the wry curl of Derek’s lips tells Stiles he knows exactly how big an understatement it is. “Yeah, I’m still not used to that.”

“Me either.”

Stiles huffs a laugh when Derek grins at him and climbs out of the car. He’s not sure what to think about Derek offering to make Kira pack; he’s pretty sure after today that Derek really does want to complete the bond, and he’s not so sure anymore if it’s just because of the power boost it would give him. 

It’s a little confusing, but Stiles can’t say he hates the idea. He’s been dreaming about having Derek’s attention since he was a kid, after all, and that hasn’t gone away just because he wished it would. Still, he’s not ready to just jump into a lifelong bond, and that’s the whole reason he wants to find a way to break their connection. It will give them a chance at a fresh start, anyway, and maybe things will be better the second time around. 

“Does it tire you out to teleport other people with you?” Derek asks as he pulls open the clinic door and holds it to let Stiles in ahead of him.

Stiles shakes his head and glances over his shoulder at Derek. “No more than any other kind of magic. Corbin says it’s because I pull my power from the land, and when that crazy druid tried to sacrifice me on the Nemeton, my blood, like, bonded me to the tree and the ley lines underneath it. So now I’m kind of superpowered, in a way? I can feel the difference when I’m here, anyway. The magic in Beacon Hills feels a lot stronger than when I’m out east, because I’m not tied to the land there.”

“You say the Nemeton has bound itself to you?”

At the sound of Deaton’s voice Stiles turns, frowning at the vaguely troubled expression on his face. It’s the most emotion Stiles has seen out of him since this whole werewolf thing started, and he has a feeling it should make him nervous. Except he already knows about his connection to the Nemeton, and according to Daphnis it’s a good thing.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been staying with a dryad and she says the trees told her that when I spilled blood on the Nemeton it restored the balance to the land or whatever. Maybe the power boost was a thank you.”

It gets him another frown, but Deaton lifts the mountain ash counter to let them into the back of the clinic. They follow him past the exam room and into his office, a room Stiles has never been allowed in before. Two walls are covered in bookshelves positively overflowing with books, and if it wasn’t for the Fae library and then Corbin’s personal library in addition to the university collections, Stiles knows he would be itching to get his hands on Deaton’s books. 

But he’s got other resources now, for knowledge as well as any ingredients he might need, so instead of trying to sneak looks at Deaton’s inner sanctum, he takes one of the seats in front of Deaton’s desk and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“I was under the impression you were staying with another Spark. I assumed, given the choices, that you were learning from Corbin Thoreaux?”

“Yeah,” Stiles answers, though he’s not sure he loves the idea of Deaton knowing where he’s been all this time, considering how much Stiles trusts him. Still, he figured Scott would tell him as much as he knew the first chance he got, so it’s not a surprise. “His wife’s a dryad.”

“I see,” is all Deaton says. He folds his hands in front of him on the desk and glances at Derek before he turns his attention back to Stiles. “So what can I do for you?”

Stiles steals a glance at Derek in time to watch his jaw clench. For some reason it makes him feel kind of guilty, which is bullshit, but there it is all the same. 

“I heard there was a ritual, something druids use sometimes, to bring a person to the brink of death without actually killing them.”

“You want to what?” Derek says, but Stiles ignores him because Deaton’s nodding and looking at him like Stiles is the most interesting thing he’s seen in ages. 

“As it happens, I know the ritual you mean. It involves slowing a person's heart rate to the point their consciousness is tricked into leaving the body, as it were. But why would you have any need for such a ritual? If you truly are a Spirit Walker, you can cross the veil without the help of a ritual.”

“Right, but that’s not exactly what I mean.” He looks over to find Derek watching him now, brow furrowed in what Stiles is guessing is anger and maybe a little fear. But this is the only way to get them both a clean start, so he swallows down his guilt and turns back to Deaton.

“This Fae I know says that becoming immortal would break the Spark bond with Derek. He was trying to get me to agree to bond with him at the time, but he kind of let slip that if I died without actually dying, that would do the trick too.”

For a few seconds Deaton looks as close to confused as Stiles has ever seen him, and Stiles feels his magic getting restless under his skin. As soon as he feels it Derek reaches over, his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and grounding him in a way he knows he shouldn’t enjoy. There’s no denying it works, though, and he knows if the bond were complete he wouldn’t even need Derek’s touch to settle him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stilinski, I don’t think the ritual you’re asking about can help.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, and now he’s just frustrated. “I mean, isn’t it worth a try? It’s not like I’m saying I never want to bond my Spark to Derek, but after everything that’s happened it just seems like a fresh start would be the best option. A do-over, you know?” he adds, glancing at Derek and willing him to understand. 

Deaton’s nodding, but he’s wearing that regretful expression he gets whenever he’s about to say something they don’t want to hear. “I understand your position, but I don’t think the ritual will help in your case. In fact, I suspect the bond you’re experiencing with Derek isn’t what you think it is at all. Any Spark bond that developed when you were children would have broken when you died and came into your full powers.”

Stiles shakes his head before Deaton's even finished talking. “I thought of that, but Corbin says it's not necessarily true. He said it could have just snapped back into place when I came back to life. I mean we’re definitely bonded; Derek can feel my emotions when I’m on the other side of the country.”

“Is that so?” Deaton says, turning his attention to Derek until he nods and shifts uncomfortably. 

“Not all the time. Mostly it’s just been when he’s really upset about something. I can feel the bond, like a pack bond but more intense, but I don’t pick up on specific emotions unless they’re really strong.”

Deaton nods and glances at Derek’s hand where it’s still gripping Stiles’ neck. “That confirms my suspicions that what you’re experiencing is not a Spark bond. If I’m not mistaken, what you’re describing is a mating bond.”

* * *

As soon as the words are out of Deaton’s mouth Derek feels the spike of anxiety buzzing along what’s apparently his _mate bond_ with Stiles. He doesn’t even think before he’s tightening his grip on Stiles’ neck, and when that doesn’t stop Stiles from practically vibrating in his chair, Derek leans over and presses his nose against the line of Stiles’ throat, breathing deep to scent him before he whispers in his ear.

“Just breathe. We’ll figure this out. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, understand?”

The look Stiles shoots him is about as incredulous as Derek expects, but it gets him to stop shaking, so Derek calls it a win. When he straightens up again Deaton’s watching them with his usual neutral expression, but Derek can smell the smugness he’s not bothering to cover up. 

“Explain,” he barks, sharp enough that he’s surprised there’s no dog joke from Stiles.

“As I’m sure you know, the Spark bond acts in much the same way an anchor functions for werewolves. Its purpose is to keep Mr. Stilinski’s magic grounded, to tether him to his humanity so the Spark does not take over and burn him out from the inside, the same way werewolves rely on their anchor to bond them to their humanity so they don’t lose themselves to their predatory instincts.”

Derek nods impatiently, because he’s already heard all this from Peter, and he knows Stiles has heard it all as well. 

“That’s just it,” Deaton continues, as though he’s explaining something they should already know. “The Spark bond acts as an _anchor_. It doesn’t allow emotions to bleed through the way you’re describing. I might be tempted to call it a pack bond if it was something as simple as a general sense of unease on Derek’s part if Stiles was in danger, but what you describe, that level of emotional transference, only happens with a mate bond.”

“How?” Stiles asks, and he sounds so bewildered that Derek can’t help flinching. “I mean, we’re getting along okay lately, but before I left town Derek could barely stand to be in the same room with me, let alone form some kind of mate bond. I mean...can it be one-sided? Is this something else I’m forcing on him?”

The question makes Derek's stomach clench, both at the implication that Stiles is forcing him to do anything and the idea that he’s made Stiles believe for so long that Derek hated him. He’s been a terrible Alpha, and just imagining what his mother must think of him makes him flush with shame.

“Certainly it is possible for incomplete mate bonds to be one-sided,” Deaton says, and when Derek feels Stiles flinch he wants to reach out again, but he forces himself to keep his hands to himself. “Though in your case, if the bond is one-sided, it’s on Derek’s side. It’s him who has been feeling your emotions, therefore it’s him who is experiencing the bond.”

Stiles looks troubled at that, but Derek doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t have the right, just like he doesn’t have the right to pressure Stiles to accept him, not after Derek rejected him without even realizing it for years, and then rejected him some more even after he realized what Stiles could mean to him. Everything about this situation is his fault, so he’s not going to make it worse by demanding that Stiles accept a bond he’s not ready for.

“Peter said the only way to complete a one-sided Spark bond was to create a mating bond,” Derek says instead. “Does that mean, if Stiles were to accept me as his mate, the Spark bond would be recreated as well?”

“It is common for Sparks to mate with their anchors,” Deaton answers, but his eyes are on Stiles, like he can see something Derek can’t. “Just as it’s common for werewolves to use their mates as an anchor.”

“But if he doesn’t…” Derek trails off and swallows, heart beating too fast and his claws itching to come out just at the thought of saying the words. He forces his wolf back down, clinging hard to his human side because he’s not going to let Stiles know how much the thought upsets him. “If he doesn’t want to be my mate, it’s not binding the way a Spark bond is. It will just fade eventually, right?”

“That’s right,” Deaton says, voice soft and Derek would almost call it pity if it weren’t for the fact that he’s still staring at Stiles like he’s a particularly interesting specimen under a microscope. “What is it, Mr. Stilinski?”

“It’s...uh...it’s not one-sided,” Stiles answers, then he glances over at Derek without meeting his eyes, like he’s feeling guilty for some reason. “When Derek went down to Mexico to look for Cora, Kate got to him first. Scott told you about that?”

Deaton nods even though it’s not really necessary, because Scott tells his boss everything, and that’s something Derek’s going to have to talk to him about. Deaton’s helped the pack, sure, but that doesn’t mean Derek trusts him with all their business. He’s not their emissary and he’s made it clear he doesn’t intend to be, not that Derek would want him considering the fact that he’s loyal to Scott over any of the Hales.

“Yeah, well, that’s how I found him,” Stiles continues. “We had no idea where she was holding him, but I could _feel_ Derek’s panic, like a tug at the bond, so I followed it and we ended up at this temple in the middle of the jungle. Kate was already trying to turn him into a Berserker, but I used the bond to push as many memories of his pack and his family past her magic as I could, and eventually he snapped out of it.”

“I see,” Deaton says again, and Derek finds himself regretting that he hadn’t killed the man a year ago when he though Deaton was the rogue Alpha. The little frisson of irritation he feels through what’s apparently their mate bond tells him Stiles is reaching the end of his patience as well, so he leans forward in his seat to fix the man with what he hopes is a menacing glare.

“Look, the point is that Stiles isn’t stuck with this, right? He doesn’t have to go through with some crazy ritual to break the bond. If he doesn’t want it, we can just ignore it and eventually it will go away, right?”

The way Deaton tilts his head is half nod, half shake. “It wouldn’t be comfortable, and it would take quite some time for the connection to fade completely, but essentially, what you say is true.”

“How much time?” Derek asks, already bracing himself for how long he has before he has to watch Stiles move on with someone else.

“Given the strength of the bond you’re describing, I’d say a year or two at least.”

A year. It gives Derek time to work on convincing Stiles to choose him, at least. It shouldn’t even be that hard, since Stiles’ magic had already chosen Derek once. But he’s done just about everything wrong since then, and no matter how hard he’s trying to be worthy of a mate like Stiles now, it could all be too late.

Derek stands up when Stiles does, ignoring the calculating look on Deaton’s face as he watches the two of them. Whatever he’s thinking it’s probably not good, and Derek’s just as happy to get Stiles out of there as quickly as he can.

“Thanks, Doc,” Stiles says, though he sounds distracted, and he’s not looking at Deaton to see him nod in response.

Derek nods back and follows Stiles out of the office, hand on his back to steer him past the open mountain ash counter and out of the clinic. He’s quiet as he climbs back into the Camaro, expression thoughtful and far away, and Derek’s not brave enough to ask what he’s thinking. Once they’re on the road back to the preserve Stiles breaks the silence, gaze still focused on the trees rushing past as he speaks.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“I didn’t hear a lie,” Derek answers, because he didn’t, and maybe Deaton’s been around werewolves long enough to know how to lie to them, but for once Derek wants to believe him.


End file.
